


Over My Dead Body

by Abandoned (TheIttyBitty)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Gore, M/M, Some Character Deaths, THE CHARACTER DEATH IS JOHN AND MARY, Zombies, and there are a few others, but not super major ones, possible rating change later, they die right off the bat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2257437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIttyBitty/pseuds/Abandoned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is running. He is running harder than he's ever run in his life, faster than he'd thought he could.<br/>He isn't sure what he's running toward, but he sure as hell knows what he's running from.<br/>Death, destruction, fuckin' zombies.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Currently abandoned. Very sorry.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!  
> So, first off, obvious warnings for gore.  
> There are some character deaths, but none of them are Dean, Sam, or Castiel. I can tell you ahead of time if you'd like.
> 
> Also, feel free to tell me if you spot any mistakes, i'm not super duper at proofreading

Dean Winchester is running. He is running harder than he's ever run in his life, faster than he'd thought he could.

  
He isn't sure what he's running toward, but he sure as hell knows what he's running from.

  
Death, destruction, fuckin' zombies.

 

He's pulling his brother along by his arm, urging him to go faster, but Sammy's small and also he's wearing Dad's boots which are about 7 sizes too big. They flop around on his small feel and slow him up. Sam stumbles and trips as he tries to keep up with his brother's breakneck speed.

  
"Dean." He wheezes. "I- I can't. I can't run any more."

  
Dean slows a little, but not much. He can't afford to. He scans the road ahead of them. It looks deserted, but that doesn't mean it is. "We just have to make it to the car, Sammy. Just gotta make it to the car, then we can stop. It's just a couple blocks. You can do it."

  
Sam shakes his head, gasping for breath. His face is bright red. "I can't."

  
Dean closes his eyes, just for a second. He takes a deep breath, then stoops down. "Get on my back." He orders.

  
Sam doesn't waste any time, he shifts his backpack and manoeuvres himself so he's riding piggyback.

  
It's not ideal, but it's the only thing Dean can think of. On one shoulder is his own pack, full of everything he managed to grab in the moments before everything went belly up. In his other hand is a shotgun. He's going to have a hell of a time aiming it now that Sam is on his back, but you do what you can.

  
He starts off down the road again, slower than before. They don't make it half a block before Sam is gasping "Dean!" and Dean sees one ambling toward them from the right.  
He doesn't know what scientists are calling them, something fancy, he's sure. On tv they were calling them Walkers or something. They're zombies. Actual, kill-you-and-eat-your-brain zombies. Just husks of the people they once were. They remember nothing, they feel nothing, just hunger. And one's coming at them now.

  
It's a smallish one, a woman. She has all of her limbs, but her chest is a mass of blood and bone. Dean can see her ribs from the other side of the street. Apparently she's freshly dead, because she's leaving a dark trail of blood behind her as she goes. Her eyes are blank and white, her mouth surrounded by open wounds.

  
Dean tries to go slowly, quietly, as to not attract her attention. Sometimes, if you're careful, you get around them. He doesn't want to have to shoot her, not out of some misplaced sense of morality but because gunshots will just attract more of them and that is the very last thing they need.

  
They make it only a few yards before their luck gives out. Sam is small, but he's still a thirteen year old kid and he's heavy. Dean stumbles under the weight, knocking into a plastic trash can in someone's driveway. The zombie turns toward them, clouded eyes swiveling madly. When she catches sight of them, she gnashes her teeth and starts forward.

  
"Shit!" Dean spits. He stumbles forward as fast as he can, but it's not going to be enough. He turns as aims the shotgun as best he can. Thankfully, he doesn't have to be spot on, and the bitch's head explodes like a nasty, gooey firework.

  
Dean lets out a releaved laugh, and then he's stumbling forward again. He has to get them out of here before more come.

-o-

He can _see_ Singer Auto. It's just a half a block away. Bobby won't be there, of course, he and Karen on vacation in Barbados, but the Impala is there. It's in the lot, ready to be picked up by John. But John... won't be coming. Dean figures it's his car now.

  
Thing is, he can see three of the fuckin' pussbags milling around, and he's not sure he's fast enough to outrun them.

  
"You think you're good to walk on your own yet, Sammy?" Dean whispers.

  
He feels Sam nod his head. "I think so."

  
He slides off Dean's back, landing on the pavement with a soft thud.

  
"Alright." Dean whispers. "The car'll be on the other side of the building. We gotta make a break for it. Think you can do it?"

  
Sam nods. He looks like he's having trouble breathing, but his face is determined. He pulls his inhaler out of the pocket of his cargo pants and takes a puff. He puts it back in.

"Let's do it." He says.

  
Dean takes Sam's hand.

  
"Okay, on three. One, two, three!"

  
The take off, sprinting as fast as they can. Sam is still having an extra hard time because of the boots, but he's doing impressively well in spite of it.

  
They blow past the first zombie and skid into the lot, the other two are here in between the cars, and now they're ambling toward Dean and Sam. "Go, go, go!" Dean yells, urging his brother forward. They round the building and... Dean doesn't see the Impala. He sees other cars, but not the impala. Where the _fuck_ is the Impala?! He keeps going forward, though, pulling his brother with him. Because the zombies are still coming and he can't stop now.

  
Dean is panicking. Really _really_ panicking. What are they going to do? They're going to die. He and Sam are going to die out here and that's going to be the end of it.

  
But then, he sees it!

  
Hidden behind some douchebag's bright red hummer, is his baby.

  
"Yes!" He shouts, pulling the keys out of his pocket.

  
They barely make it, shutting and locking the doors just as the two shrieking dead descend on them. The bang on the windows, leaving smears of coagulating blood, but they aren't strong enough to break the glass.

  
Finally, Dean allows himself to breath. He leans his head back onto the rest and lets out a hollow laugh that quickly dies on his tongue.

  
"You okay, Sammy?" He asks, turning his head.

  
Sam nods once. He's not looking great though, his lips are paler than they should be.

  
"You're still having trouble breathing." Dean surmises.

  
"Just give me a minute." Sam wheezes. "I'll be okay."

  
So they sit there, getting their bearings.

  
It's good, because it gives Sam time to get his breath back, and it's bad, because it gives Dean time to think. He doesn't need to think, can't take the time to sift through the wreckage in his head. So he pushes the memories of the monsters that were once his parents to the back of his mind, he'll deal with that later.

  
_-It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight_ -

  
Dean starts at the music, looking around. Sam, too, is looking confused. It sure as hell isn't the radio, he hasn't even turned on the damn car yet.

  
_-risin' up to the challenge of our rivals_ -

  
Oh fuck, it's his phone! His phone is ringing!

  
Feeling like an idiot, Dean fishes his cell from the recesses of his pants pocket. When he finally gets it out he doesn't even look at it, just swipes his finger over the screen to answer.

  
"Hello?" He says into the phone.

  
There's a lot of noise in the background, but he can make out a familier voice. "Dean?"

  
"Gabe?" He feels a wave of relief wash through him, at least _one_ of his friends is alive.

  
"Dean! Are you guys okay?"

  
"Me and Sammy are alright. We got the car. Are _you_ alright?"

  
He hears Gabriel laugh, but not happily. "Well, uh, yeah. More or less. At the moment."

  
"Gabe..."

  
There's silence for a minute, then, "I'm stuck on someone's roof. I was at a party last night and I stayed over and woke up to... I don't even fuckin' know, Dean. What the fuck is happening?"

  
Dean shakes his head, even though Gabriel can't see him. "I don't know, man. Somethin' bad."

  
"Yeah... _anyway_ I woke up and everything was bat shit and I climbed out a window and now I'm on somebody's roof. I'd get down, but there's a bunch of... what looks to be dead people in the yard. Probably in the house, too."

  
"Where are you at, Gabe?" Dean asks.

  
"You know Lisa Braeden's place?"

  
"Yeah."

  
"I'm there."

  
Dean puts the keys into the ignition and twists, the car rumbles to life. "Hang tight, man. We're comin' to get you."

  
He hears Gabriel sigh. "Thanks, Dean."

-o-

Dean's worried like hell that all his other friends are dead. Gabriel is one of his closest, but he hopes they're all okay. He knows they aren't, but if Gabriel is still alive, well, maybe there's some hope.

  
The two of them are both Juniors at Tempah Central High School, they'll both be eighteen their next birthdays. Dean hasn't really known Gabriel all that long, just about a year, but he's really grown to like the guy. Weird little fucker that he is.

  
Out of all his friends, though, Gabriel is _not_ the one he'd have bet on to live through this shit, though it's not over by any means, its only just begun.

  
Charlie and Kevin are both smarter, and Charlie does enough LARPING that she could probably kick some ass if given the chance. Ash is an absolute genius, and also has a way of sort of just stumbling through danger and coming out unharmed. Jo... well, Dean is pretty sure she's still alive. If anybody is gonna live, it'll be Jo. She kicks some serious ass, and she has more guns than just about anybody Dean knows. Gabriel, however, is not someone he'd have bet on. Gabriel is short, and a little chubby because he's constantly eating junk food. He rarely gets off the couch, unless it's to go to a party where he'll drink too much and pass out and/or vomit on his own shoes. He's slow, out of shape, and a little lazy. Dean is baffled that he's alive.

 

The Braedon house is just off Wabash Av. It's a pretty nice neighborhood, really. White picket fences around neatly trimmed lawns housing small, expensive dogs. Or at least, it used to be.

  
Now it's wasteland. It's even worse than Dean's neighborhood. Cars lay in pieces along the side of the road, or smashed together. They pass one house that has a car halfway into their living room. Partly eaten bodies are strewn everywhere, half submerged in puddles of darkening blood. As Dean watches, one of them tries to stand. It can't, though, it's missing both legs and half its face. Smoke rises in plumes from a house a few streets down and Dean kind of hopes it spreads and takes all these houses with it.

  
They pull up to the Braedon house, and Dean doesn't even have it in him to curse. They can see Gabriel on the roof, huddled up with his knees hugged close to his chest, watching the carnage on the front lawn. There are _so many_ zombies there, so many that most of the grass is red, parts lay littered everywhere. Dean spots Lisa herself, one arm torn almost all the way off, hanging on by a strand of muscle. She's chewing on what looks to be the remains of her wiener dog, Schnitzel. Dean fights the urge to throw up. When he looks over, Sam is pale again, and he has his eyes shut.

  
Dean pulls out his phone and dials Gabriel. Looking out the window, he can see Gabriel answer.

  
"Hello?"

  
"I don't know how we're gonna get you down, dude." Dean tells him.

  
"Yeah, I know." Gabriel sighs, dejectedly. "Thanks for coming by, anyway. Seeing you guys one more time kinda makes me feel better."

  
Dean rolls his eyes. "Did I say we're not gonna try?"

  
"... no?"

  
"That's right, fucker. What kinda friend do you think I am, anyway? God's balls, Gabe."

  
Gabriel laughs, and this time it's real. "Sorry."

  
"You can say that to my face once we get you down."

  
"Okay."

  
"Alright, I'll call you back once we've got a plan."

  
Dean ends the call. "I got _nothin'_." He tells Sam.

  
Sam's face is scrunched in thought, he's chewing on his thumb knuckle.

  
"We can't just pull up in the yard and have him jump on top, can we?" He wonders.

  
"Nah," Says Dean. "Don't think I can get over the sidewalk, and I think they could get at him on the roof."

  
"Okay." Sam says. "So we either have to kill them or draw them off."

  
Dean nods. "We could try killin' them, but that means either getting out of the car or rolling down the windows, neither of which I'm really keen to do. And, once we start shooting we'd better do it fast before the sound draws others in."

  
"Okay, so that leaves drawing them off."

  
"Right. But how?"

  
Sam hums thoughtfully. "Blowing something up is always good."

  
"We don't have any explosives."

  
They sit in thoughtful silence for a while.

  
"How far away is that firework store on Lincoln?" Sam asks.

  
"Dude, that's like ten minutes away."

  
"Do you think they'd see if we... I dunno... caught it on fire?"

  
Dean thinks for a minute. "You know, they just might."

  
"What do you think?"

  
"I think it's worth a shot."

  
Sam smiles as Dean pulls out his phone and calls Gabriel.

  
"Gabe? Okay, we have, like, half of a plan."


	2. Chapter 2

 

Last month

 

_"- and the Willis Co. Animal shelter got the funding it needed after all, thanks to the fundraising efforts of some pro-active citizens." The reporter smiles widely, her overly-red lips stretched wide._

_"Well that's just fantastic, Diane!" Says the newscaster. He shuffles the papers on his desk and adjusts his position slightly. "It's flue season again, folks, and we urge you to keep updated on your vaccines. A new strain has been going around and it's particularly nasty. Several people nationwide have been hospitalized do to the strain and are undergoing treatment. You do **not** want your child to come down with it. So remember to wash your hands and, once again, keep your vaccines updated.  
_

_I'm Jo Kennedy and this has been the YRS Nightly News Report, have a good evening."  
_

 

* * *

Now

 

Okay, so maybe it's not the best plan ever. But Dean isn't a genius tactician, Sam is still have a hard time breathing, and both of them are basically fuses, running out of time until they have to think about anything that's happened. And when that happens, well, it promises to be a mess.

  
So, yeah, not a perfect plan. It's simple though. Even an dumbass and his thirteen year-old asthmatic brother can do it. It goes like this:

  1. Drive to fireworks store
  2. Set store on fire
  3. Drive like hell (in opposite direction)
  4. Hope all the zombies go toward that fire
  5. Get Gabe



 

It relies on a lot of luck, and on things going smoothly even though there's no reason for them to. They've got step one, though. They made it to the store without much incident, although Sam becomes more and more agitated as they get closer to the building. Dean has been trying to call people all the way here, his friends, relatives, even the police. No one is picking up. It's not a good sign. Now Sam and Dean are sitting there in the parking lot, trying to figure out their next move.

  
Someone will have to go in, to douse things in gasoline and set it ablaze. It'll be Dean, obviously. He's not going to let Sam do something that stupid, especially when they don't know how many dead are inside.

  
Sam is chewing on his thumb knuckle again. "What if you don't come back?" He worries.

  
"I'll come back." Dean assures his brother.

  
"You don't know that!" Sam says. His breathing starts to speed up. "Mom is gone. Dad is gone. _Everyone_ is gone! What if you die?!"

  
He's starting to panic, Dean can see. He's been surprised with how well his brother has been holding up so far, but now Sam is starting to crack.

  
Sam turns to face Dean and grabs onto his forearms arms tightly. "I can't do this, Dean!

  
"Hey, hey. It's alright." Dean says, grabbing his brother's arms back. He squeezes Sam's elbows reassuringly. "We can do this, I promise. I've got you for backup, what's the worst that could happen?"

  
Sam shakes his head, eyes wide. "You could die, you _fucking idiot_!"

  
Dean blows a breath out slowly through his mouth. "I know you're scared." He says quietly. "I am too. But we've gotta help Gabe. We can't just leave him there."

  
Sam closes his eyes and purses his lips. He shakes his head.

  
"Sam-" Dean starts.

  
Sam leans forward to throw his arms around his brother's shoulders, leaning into him. Dean wraps his arms around Sam's middle, the way he used to do when Sam was smaller and would come into his room at night after a bad dream. "It's gonna be okay, buddy." He says, rubbing circles onto his brother's back.

  
Sam lets out a sob into his shoulder. "Nothing is okay." He says wetly.

  
"I know." Dean says. "I know."

  
They stay like that for a long time, until Sam's breathing slows and he releases his vise-like grip on Dean. When he leans back his face is red and tear streaked. He takes a long, unsteady breath. He nods once.

  
"Hurry." He says. "And you better come back."

  
Dean forces a smile onto his face. He reaches over and ruffles Sam's hair. "Sure thing."

  
He takes a deep breath and opens the driver side door, Sam slides into the driver's seat behind him, ready to drive if anything goes wrong. He isn't very good at driving, his feat don't really reach the peddles very well, but it'll do in a pinch.

  
Dean scans the parking lot as he shuts the car door behind him, eyes catching on abandoned cars, blood, tipped shopping carts with contents spilled out over the pavement, but no dead. Not for the moment anyway.

  
He has his shotgun in hand, he hasn't put it down in what seems like ages. From the trunk he gets the spare jug of gasoline. Using it will probably come back to bite him in the ass later, but right now he doesn't have many options. He's never been a Big Picture thinker anyway, always more of a _do-what-makes-sense-at-the-moment_ kinda guy.  
He turns to give a thumbs-up to Sammy, watching nervously from the driver's side, and stalks slowly toward the store.

  
It's not really a very big place, just a small building sandwiched between a Payless Shoes and a Dress Barn in the beginnings of the slightly seedier side of town. Dean moves slowly, eyes peeled, until he's right at the front of the store. He reaches out and... the door is opened. It's being propped opened by... oh.

  
By someone's hand.

  
Just a hand. Nothing else attached. Sticky, half dried blood pools beneath its curled fingers. The nails are broken off, Dean can see the torn beds. He swallows and looks away as he pulls the door open and kicks the hand aside, thankful that this store doesn't have a bell.

  
Inside, the stench is awful. It's thick and cloying, a mixture of blood and excrement as well as decay and something else, sickeningly sweet. Dean pulls the neck of his shirt up over his nose in an attempt to breathe easier. It's not entirely effective, but it'll do.

  
He moves quickly to the first row of shelves, stacked high with sparklers and snaps, he pours some gasoline on.  
The next shelf has bigger stuff, fountains and wheels. He can hear someone -something- shuffling at the back of the store, but he ignores it as he pours gas on the second shelf.

  
At the third row he just splashes some gas around on the floor because he can hear the zombie getting closer and he needs to get out of there.  
Sure enough, as soon as he's finished splashing the liquid, the thing comes around the corner.

  
He's a big fucker, his huge stomach split down the middle, spilling guts on the floor to be dragged behind him. Half of his cheek is gone, and one eye dangles from its socket.  
Dean takes a step back.

  
The thing starts forward.

  
"Shit!" Dean spits, pulling the matchbook from his pocket and trying to back up at the same time. He lights it, and tosses it away before reaching for his gun. He shoots the thing twice, right in the head, and it goes down with a sick squelching noise.

  
Dean spins and runs as the store goes up in flames behind him.

  
Once he exits the store, though, he finds he's got bigger problems. There are more dead now, ambling around at different speeds in between the cars. Maybe they were attracted by the gunshots or the moving car. Whatever the cause, it's a problem. There are about five of them in between him and the Impala.

  
He takes a deep breath and decides to try and run, if he keeps making noise they'll just keep coming.

  
One the count of three, he decides.

  
_One, two, three._

  
He surges forward, sprinting past the first two, no problem.

  
The third one reaches out toward him with cracking fingers but he pushes the thing away with his elbow and keeps going. The fourth and fifth, though, are standing together right in his way. They're big, too. Tall, both of them.

  
Dean tries to duck around them but they're faster than he anticipated and one of them slams into him, bringing him to the ground and knocking his shotgun out of his hand. He hits the pavement hard, head bouncing off the blacktop. The big guy is heavy on top of him, dripping bloody drool all over Dean while he tries to push the thing away. He's too heavy though, too hungry, and he's pushing closer and closer to Dean's face. Dean can't tell where the other big guy is, whether he wandered off of if he's just out of sight, waiting to tear into Dean.

  
The zombie above him opens its mouth wide, exposing rows of rotten teeth in blackened gums. Dean's arms are giving out, and the thing's teeth are getting closer and closer to his skin.

  
_This is it,_ he thinks. _This is how I die._

  
But he doesn't. Because just as his arms give out he hears a pop and the zombie's head explodes into a billion pieces that immediately rain down on his face. He's lucky his lips were pursed so tightly, or he might have had a problem. He hears a second pop, but he's too busy shoving the remains of the zombie off of him to see what it is.  
When he stands, though, he sees that it's the other big one. It's missing its head as well.

  
Dean grabs his gun and sprints the rest of the way to the Impala. Sam moves out of the way as Dean slides into the driver's seat and slams his hand on the door lock.  
He sits there, breathing heavily, for several long minutes while the fireworks store goes up in flames and explosions.

  
Once he gets his breath back scans the area, realizing that those pops sounded like muted gunshots. He can't see anyone, although the light glints strangely off of _something_ on top of a building a few down from the wreckage of the fireworks store.

  
He comes back to himself when Sam punches him in the arm. It doesn't hurt, but it's a little startling.

  
"What was that for?" He whines. He looks up to see his brother's eyes swimming with tears.

  
"You almost died!" Sam yells. "You promised you wouldn't and then you almost did!"

  
"Well I didn't exactly _mean to,_ Sam!"

  
Sam says nothing, he just pitches himself forward and wraps his arms around his blood-soaked brother, then starts sobbing. Dean holds Sam close.

  
"It's alright." Dean says. "We're okay."

  
" _Don't_ do that again." Sam whispers.

  
"I'll do my best." Says Dean.

 

* * *

 

The plan seems to have worked. The fire they started made a big ruckus, and then started to spread to the other stores, so it's pretty noticeable. If this... _whatever it is_ ever blows over he's probably going to feel bad about setting fire to a bunch of stores, but he doesn't think about that now. As they drive back they pass droves of zombies making their way toward the fire, Dean hopes it kills at least some of them. Thankfully, the monsters don't seem to realize that there are people in the car, and the brothers go unmolested.

  
They're nearing the Braedon house when Sam says. "Hey, Dean. Why aren't there more people?"

  
Dean doesn't look away from the road, he has to manoeuvre around bodies and broken down cars and it isn't easy. "What're you talkin' about? There's people everywhere." He gestures to the road, where the living dead move slowly in the opposite direction.

  
"No," Says Sam. "I mean live people. I mean, you and me and Gabe made it, other people must have too. So... where are they?"

  
Dean squints. "That's... a good point." He concedes. Now that he thinks about it, he realizes it's a bit odd that they haven't come across more survivors. "I think there was somebody at the stores." He says.

  
Sam looks up, curious. "Who?"

  
Dean shrugs. "I dunno, I didn't see 'em. But did you see those zombies' heads explode?"

  
Sam nods slowly. "I though... they just kind of popped."

  
Dean shakes his head. "Somebody shot 'em. I think they had a silencer. Which... is pretty smart."

  
"Should we go back?" Sam wonders.

  
"Nah." Says Dean. "They didn't show themselves or anything, must not have wanted to be found."

  
Sam looks unconvinced, but he drops the subject as they pull up to the Braedon house.

  
Dean smiles. Their plan worked. The only zombie left in the yard is Lisa Braedon herself, still chewing forlornly on the family pet. It's a little pathetic, really. If she wasn't so dead Dean might say she looked lonely.

  
He pulls up to the curb and gives Gabriel a thumbs-up, which he returns. He scoots to the edge of the roof, apparently not wanting to go back inside, and starts sliding carefully off the edge. He dangles for a minute, hands grasping the the roof edge tightly, before he drops. He fudges the landing a bit, landing on one foot instead of rolling like he should, but thankfully the Braedon's second story isn't actually very high up and it looks like he's mostly okay.

  
The thing that used to be Lisa Braedon just watches Gabriel uninterestedly, presumably already full.

  
Gabriel limps quickly to the car and slides into the back seat.

  
"Thanks, guys." He breathes. "I didn't- _holy shit_ , what happened to you?!" He staring at Dean with a look of horror on his face.

  
Dean looks down at himself, he's covered in blood. He remembers the head that exploded mere inches from his own and guesses that his face is probably splattered in gore as well.

  
"It's not mine." He explains, wiping his face with his sleeve.

  
Gabriel's eyebrows shoot upward. "Yeah, okay." He says, and then he slumps backward, leaning his head on the seat behind him. He let's out a long breath. "What the fuck do we do now?" He wonders.

  
"You been able to get a hold of anybody else?" Dean asks.

  
Gabriel purses his lips and shakes his head. "Nobody." He says quietly.

  
"How 'bout we check out your house?"

  
Gabriel closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then nods. "Okay."

 

* * *

 

Gabriel lives fairly close by, actually, in an enormous house on Oak Ridge. It's his aunt's, Gabriel has been living with her and his two cousins since his mom died last year. Dean has been over a couple of times, but it was too quiet and clean and weird. Mostly Gabriel comes over to the Winchester house, full sound and the smell of Mary's cooking.

  
Dean swallows and adjusts his hands on the wheel. He pushes the thoughts that threaten to overwhelm him to the back of his mind as he pulls into Gabriel's long driveway.

  
It's immediately evident that something is wrong here. There are no cars in the driveway, but the concrete is dark with blood. As they near the house, they can make out a figure splayed out on the ground in front of the open door.

  
In the back seat, Gabriel stills. As soon as Dean pulls to a stop, Gabriel jumps out, ignoring Dean's panicked shout to _stay in the damn car_. He goes to his knees beside the figure, Dean can't see his face but he can see the slump of Gabriel's shoulders and he knows that it's not good.

  
Dean sighs and grabs his gun. "Stay here." He tells Sam, who is watching Gabriel intently through the window.

  
Dean steps out of the car and moves toward Gabriel, feet crunching quietly as he walks. When he draws closer he sees the red hair fanned out on the concrete, and his stomach drops. It's Anna, one of Gabriel's cousins. She's older then them by five years, and Dean has only met her once, but she seemed nice.

  
Gabriel has one hand over his mouth and he's hunched over. Dean puts a hand on his friend's shoulder when he approaches.

  
Gabriel voice quavers when he says "Dean, look." And points to his cousin's head.

  
Dean is hesitant to look, but once he does he's stunned. Anna wasn't attacked by zombies. There's not a bite on her, her skin is still smooth and pale, unbroken, save for a hole the size of a quarter in the middle of her forehead. It's a bullet hole.

  
"What-" he wonders, but he's cut off when Gabriel stumbles to his feet and lurches into the house. He only gets a few feet before he stumbles to his knees again and vomits all over the entryway floor.

  
Dean follows, eyes flitting over the area looking for danger. What he sees is... mayhem.

  
There's glass everywhere, from dishes and vases and the busted windows. The big screen tv that once hung on the wall is smashed on the living room floor. Couch pillows are torn to shreds, cabinets are flung opens and their contents are emptied on the floor. There's more blood, too, splattered on the living room floor and the kitchen table.

 

Underneath the kitchen table is where they find Gabriel's aunt. Her neck is twisted at an unnatural angle, she has blood under her fingernails.

  
"What the fuck happened here?" Dean wonders. This isn't right. Monsters are scary enough, but this wasn't done by monsters.

  
When he turns back to Gabriel his friend has tears running down his cheeks, his lips are pursed tightly. He wipes at face frustratedly, and turns to exit the kitchen.  
Gabriel has one more cousin, Dean knows. He's never actually met the last one, only seen him in passing, but he knows his name is Castiel and he's a year younger than Dean.  
That's who they're looking for now, and Dean dreads what he might see.

  
Gabriel's searching gets more and more frenzied at each empty room. He begins to call out, despite Dean's muttered "Dammit, Gabe, be quiet."

  
Once they've checked every room and found them all empty, Gabriel gets this confused look on his face, that slides to thoughtful. He makes his way to his aunt's bedroom upstairs and searches along the wall until he finds a small notch, disguised by the bright pattern of the wallpaper. He pulls on it, and a door that was previously almost invisible swings forward. Dean gapes at Gabriel, who shrugs.

  
Behind the door is a rickety wooden staircase leading upward to the attic. They climb it warily, grimacing when some of the steps creak loudly. They come to the top, and this is the only room not touched by the carnage. Dust is thick in the air, swirling in motes that catch the sun from the single window.

  
The small sob is what alerts them to the presence of someone else, and they move silently to the back of the attic, toward the sound. They find him finally in the very back, hiding behind a pile of old boxes. He's curled up into himself, crying. When he hears their footsteps he jerks up and starts to scramble further back into the boxes.

  
"Cas!" Gabriel cries. "Cas, it's us!"

  
Castiel freezes, and the look of terror in his eyes is replaced with one of immense relief. When Gabriel swoops down and gathers him into his arms the boy grasps his cousin tightly and starts to sob.

  
"Gabe." He says wetly. "I-i thought you w-were dead." He starts to hiccup, and his sobs become more violent. He starts muttering a string of words that Dean thinks is mostly nonsense, but he makes out the words "Anna" and "mom". Gabriel hugs him tighter.

  
"They're all dead." Castiel whispers. "They're dead. They're dead. _They're dead._ "

  
Gabriel buries his face in Castiel's dark hair and Dean sees tears dripping down his chin. He strokes Castiel's hair soothingly. "I know." He says.

  
Dean feels like he's intruding on something incredibly personal, but then, they've all lost people lately. He lets them just hold each other for a while before he starts feeling impatient, reluctant to leave Sam on his own for so long, especially after whatever went down here.

  
Dean moves closer. "Guys, we should go."

  
Castiel immediately tenses again. His breathing starts to speed up, he shakes his head. "They'll find me!" His eyes are wide as he grasps fistfuls of Gabriel's shirt. "Gabe they'll _find me_!"

  
"Who's gonna find you, Cas?" Gabriel wonders.

  
Castiel begins to shake his head again, violently, and he starts to swallow over and over again.

  
Dean wants to be frustrated, but then, he's had panic attacks because of _much_ less. He goes to kneel next to Gabriel and sets his hand on Castiel's shoulder. The boy flinches away, but not before Dean feels that he's shaking terribly.

  
"Hey," Dean says gently. "do you know who I am?"

  
"Y-you're a f-f-fr-" he manages to huff an annoyed breath "an acquaintance of Gabriel's."

  
Dean nods. "We're not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I promise." He puts his hand back on Castiel's shoulder, and this time the boy lets it stay. "Here, breath with me." He says. He begins taking obvious, even breaths.

  
Castiel imitates him, and soon his breathing is back to normal. He's still shaking fiercely though. Dean and Gabriel help him to his feet.

  
"I don't wanna go down there." Castiel whispers, swaying where he stands.

  
"You can close your eyes." Says Gabriel. "We'll help you through."

  
Castiel purses his lips and gives a small nod.

  
They each take one of his arms and guide him through the house. When they pass through the front doorway he steps in his sister's blood and it makes his shoes stick to the ground. He freezes and a sob forces its way out of his chest.

  
Dean sees Gabriel swallow hard. "C'mon, Cas." He says weakly. "We're almost there."

  
They make it back to the car, where Sam sits wide-eyed in the passenger seat. Gabriel shepherds Castiel into the backseat and Dean slips in the driver's side.

  
"Who's that?" Sam whispers.

  
"That's Castiel, he's Gabe's cousin." Dean replies quietly.

  
Sam casts a glance back, where Gabriel is trying to calm Castiel down again while the boy hyperventilates. "Is he okay?"

  
Dean shakes his head. "I don't think so, Sam."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood and stuff.  
> And let me know if you spot any mistakes!  
> :)

Three Weeks Ago

  
_"What was simply a common virus is now quickly becoming a full-blown epidemic. Over_ _200 hundred men, women, and children have been hospitalized in the United States alone do to the virus, which scientists believe has begun to rapidly mutate."_  
 _The newsreader takes a deep breath to steel herself, she's looking drawn and pale. Dean wonders what happened to the newsreader from last week. "The CDC released a statement yesterday saying that there is no reason to panic, and that you simply need to make sure you're vaccinated. Vaccination Centers are being set up in all major cities, stand by for the list."_

 

 

Now

  
They sit in the driveway for a long time, waiting for Castiel to get settled down. Eventually his sobs turn to whimpers and hiccups, he ends up crying himself to sleep like a child. Once he's out they all breathe a little easier.

  
"Dean." Gabriel quietly from the backseat. "I need to go back inside."

  
"Gabe, it's not really safe. We've only got the one gun and-"

  
"Do you know where we're going next?" Gabriel interrupts. "Do you have _any sort_ of plan?"

  
Dean says nothing. He meets Gabriel's gaze in the rear view mirror. His friend's eyes aren't challenging or angry; they're resigned, curious.

  
"No." Dean exhales. "I really don't."

  
Gabriel nods. "Yeah, me neither. So... I figure we should take what we can from my house." He looks at Dean pointedly. "You and I can go in with the gun, Sam and Cas can stay here with the doors locked, it'll be fine."

  
Dean wants to protest, he doesn't want to leave Sam on his own again. He's done it so much today already. Something terrible could have happened _any one_ of those times, and the fact that nothing _has_ happened just seems like stacking the odds to one side to Dean. But... Gabriel is right. They might need supplies, because Dean has absolutely no idea what do next.

  
Where is safe? And, with the new discoveries at Gabriel's house, _who_ is safe?

  
He doesn't know. He can't say. He's not a big picture guy. And why does he feel like the leader here, anyway? When did that happen? Is it because he has the gun and the car? He figures it is.

  
Dean rubs his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Yeah, okay." He says finally.

  
They get out quietly, careful not to wake Castiel. Sam gives them a tight little smile as they make their way to the front door once again. Dean steps carefully around the blood at the entrance, and then the vomit once they get inside.

  
Gabriel goes to his room to get a duffel bag and they make their way around the house gathering what they can. They get medicine, two unopened four-packs of toothbrushes, toothpaste, and even shampoo and conditioner, just in case. They get clothes from Gabriel and Castiel's rooms, as well as blankets and pillows. They get canned foods, toilet paper, and bottled water from the pantry, knives from the kitchen, and even a couple books from a shelf from the living room. Gabriel's eyebrows go up when Dean tosses Slaughterhouse Five into the bag.

  
"What?" Says Dean. "We're not going to have anything better to do, dude. Something tells me they're probably not still showing reruns of Scooby-Doo on Cartoon Network."

  
Gabriel scoffs, but then goes still. "You think everybody's gone?" He wonders.

  
"No." Says Dean. "We're still here, somebody else has to be."

  
Gabriel nods. "Cas made it... I wasn't excepting that, honestly."

  
"Man, somethin' fucked him up bad, huh?"

  
"Naw." Says Gabriel. "Well, I mean yeah-" he backtracks. "But Cas... he's always been..." he shrugs. "A little... fragile? Mentally, ya know? He gets panic attacks a lot anyway, he's got a bunch of anxiety or whatever. He's got medicine." Gabriel pats the duffel bag.

  
"Okay." Says Dean. "Is he gonna be okay?"

  
"I dunno." Gabriel replies. He scratches a spot on his nose. "I don't know what happened."

  
Dean looks around again. Whatever happened, it was evil.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I can't believe you don't have _any_ guns." Dean exclaims as the two of them slide back into the Impala. Most of the supplies have gone in the trunk, but Gabriel stuffs the pillows and blankets into the floorboard of the backseat.

  
Castiel wakes with a panicked start as they close the doors behind them.

  
"I know, right?" Gabriel sighs, oblivious to his cousin's frightened eyes. "Sure would be helpful about now."

  
"Were you guys gone?" Castiel asks, fear lacing his words.

  
Gabriel puts a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Just for a minute. We had to get some stuff."

  
"Don't do that, Gabriel!" Castiel says, eyes wide.  He grasps at Gabriel's shirt sleeve. "Don't leave!"

  
"Hey, hey." Gabriel soothes. "I'm back now, alright?"

  
It's not good enough, Castiel closes his eyes and shakes his head vehemently. "Don't leave." He whispers. His grip on Gabriel's shirt is white knuckled and desperate. "Don't leave don't leave."

  
Gabriel makes shushing noises and smooths his hand down Castiel's back with one hand. With the other hand he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pill bottle. He pops the top with a smooth, practiced motion, and gently shakes one small white pill out onto his cousin's palm.

  
"Here." He says. "Take this."

  
Castiel tips his head back and drops the pill into his mouth, swallowing it dry. Then he buries his head in Gabriel's shoulder.

  
"He'll feel better in about twenty minutes." Gabriel says to Dean, smoothing his cousin's hair. "Actually he'll be high off his ass. Basically the same thing."

  
Dean's eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. "What'd you give him?"

  
"It's, like, emergency medicine." Gabriel explains. "He's got the stuff he takes every day, and then he's got these. These are just extra extra strength anxiety meds, they _will_ knock you on your ass. But, you know, it calms him down."

  
Dean nods once and gets back to the problem at hand. What now?

  
He drums his fingers idly on the steering wheel and blows out a frustrated breath.

  
"What do you guys think?" He asks finally. "Where do we go now?"

  
He's met with silence.

  
"Awesome." He breathes.

  
"What about our friends?" Sam asks hesitantly. He kicks his feet at the dashboard, too big shoes flopping about uselessly.

  
Dean thunks his head down against his steering wheel. "I don't know." He huffs. "We can't just drive around forever looking for people we know."

  
"What about Jo and Ellen's? I bet they know what's going on."

  
Dean leaves his head against the wheel for a while, mulling Sam's words over. It's a pretty good idea, really. "Alright." He says. "Let's do that."

 

 

* * *

 

 

They drive slowly toward the Harvelle house, dodging corpses, moving and still, making their way toward town. Just as Gabriel predicted, about twenty minutes into their drive Castiel is high as a kite. He leans forward onto the front seat with a wide, loose smile on his face and puts his chin on Dean's shoulder.

  
"Dean. Dean Dean Dean." He sings. "Dean is a good name. Good solid name. Not like _Castiel_. Castiel is terrible, flighty name."

  
"I think Castiel is a good name." Dean tells him.

  
Castiel smiles wider. "You're nice." He declares. "I like you. You're very pretty." Dean starts to blush but Castiel is already turning to look at Sam. "I like you too. You look like you give good hugs. What's your name?"

  
"Uh, Sam." Sam says warily.

  
Castiel flings his hand out for Sam to shake. "Nice to meet you, friend Sam. I'm Castiel."

  
Sam is smiling now, obviously trying not to laugh. "I've heard." He says.

  
Gabriel snorts. "Okay, buddy." He says, gently pulling his cousin back into his seat. "How 'bout you settle down."

  
Castiel goes easily, folding himself up and snuggling into Gabriel's side. He lays his head on the other boy's shoulder and sighs deeply. He slips very quickly to sleep.

  
"Well that was weird." Dean grumbles.

  
"Would you prefer the alternative?" Gabriel wonders.

  
"I didn't say _that._ "

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean slips into the Roadhouse by himself, they only have the one gun and it doesn't really make sense for anyone else to come too. The metallic smell of blood hits him as soon as he opens the door, thick in the air. The bar is dark. Glass litters the ground, along with what looks like obscene amounts of blood. There's a body sprawled on the floor by the door, but Dean isn't terribly worried about it, it looks distinctly male and it's missing its head. He steps over it, heading further in.

  
"Jo? Ellen?" He whispers as loud as he dares, but he hears nothing.

  
There are other bodies, he sees as he makes his way through. Corpses in varying degrees of decay strewn throughout. The smell makes him gag, so he pulls his shirt up over his nose again.

  
He gets some relief from the fact that he knows what did this. The creatures on the floor are easy to identify as zombies. Somehow, it's less horrible than Gabriel's house had been, with its mysterious dead people and hysterical Castiel.

  
At least here he knows what he's getting into... sort of.

  
There doesn't seem to be anyone alive on the first floor, so he makes his way toward the back of the building where there's a set of stairs leading up to the apartment that mother and daughter share. The stairs are old and creaky. They too, are slick with blood. Dean grips the handrail tightly to keep from slipping. At the top he stops and listens carefully, but there's nothing. He knocks on the apartment door.

  
"Jo?" He calls, moving his shirt away from his mouth. "Ellen?"

  
There's no answer.

  
He tries the nob and is sickeningly surprised when the door opens easily, not a good sign. He pushes the door open slowly and what hope he had of finding Ellen and Jo unscathed flees. There's a long, bloody smear winding down the hall and, at the end of it, what's left of Jo Harvelle.

  
"Oh, Jo." Dean whispers, stepping close. She's lying face down on the floor, arms outstretched, a bullet hole in her temple. He can see the sores though, around her mouth, the cloudiness of her eyes, her tongue hangs out of her mouth, half bitten clean off. She caught the virus.

  
He looks at her for a long minute, the friend he'd thought most likely to survive. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail, like it always is- was. Like it always was.  
She's been one of his best friends for years. They grew up together, for Christ's sake. And now she's...

  
He stands and moves past Jo's body to the door she was stretched toward. The door swings open, and he regrets coming here so much. This was a mistake. There's Ellen, slumped against the opposite wall beneath the window. In one of her hands is a revolver. Her head is an absolute mess, one side completely blown out, blood and brains are splattered on the wall behind her.

  
Dean turns and vomits onto the floor, heaving violently. His stomach hurts, but his head hurts worse because he knows what happened here. Jo, his best friend, got bit and her mother, practically and aunt to Dean, had to shoot her own daughter in the head. Then she did herself, obviously, because how can you live with that?

  
Dean stays hunched over, clutching his stomach, and now that he's finally alone, he starts to cry. He puts a hand over his mouth and closes his eyes tight and lets today wash over him. His mother is dead, his father is dead. Jo and Ellen, dead and dead. Gabriel's aunt and cousin, dead. Even Lisa Braedon, dead.

  
What the fuck is he supposed to now? He needs help _bad_ and there's... there's no one. There's Gabriel and Castiel and Sam, but they know about as much as he does.

  
Suddenly, he can't stand the smell of the room anymore. He needs to get out. He stumbles to his feet and rams hard into a card table near the door. Papers cascade to the floor and, out of habit, be bends down to pick them up. Only once they're in his hands does he realize what they are: lists, written carefully in Ellen's cramped handwriting. Lists. Lists of places, cities. At the top of the first page is written "Safe Zones". Halfway down that page a name is circled.

  
Omaha, Nebraska.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you spot any mistakes let me know!
> 
> Also, there WILL be other pairings in the story. I haven't tagged them because I don't want to spoil it, but if you want to know just ask and I'll tell you.

 

  
Two Weeks Ago

 

 

_The news is calling it the Metrose Virus, because of some scientist named Metrose who's trying to cure it or something. Dean isn't sure why they've named it after him, as he obviously hasn't even made any major breakthroughs yet. Things just keep getting worse and worse and they're showing no sign of stopping._   


  
_There's_ another _new newsreader. He's pale, with twitchy eyes and he keeps swallowing over and over again. He wipes his hand over his mouth._

  
_"We're getting reports that the Metrose Virus has mutated again. Some new symptoms include hair loss and extreme violence. Reports from the CDC are saying that the virus is now being spread by contact of bodily fluid. We advise you_ not _to attempt_ any _contact with anyone you think_ _might have the virus. Simply vacate the area and contact the CDC or your local police_ immediately.

  
_If you are, ah, scratched, bitten, or spit on by someone you suspect might have the virus please contact the CDC or head to the closest virus control center in your area."_

  
_"Turn that shit off." John says, coming in the living room doorway. He drops heavily into the easy chair._

  
_"This is important, John." Mary says urgently from the couch._

  
_John snorts. "And I've heard enough about it at work today. Nobody shuts the fuck up about it. I've had a long day, I just want to watch some damn football, alright? Is that really too much to ask?"_

  
_Mary purses her lips but hands over the remote and gets up to leave._

  
_John changes the channel._

 

NowDean folds the top two pieces of paper and slips them into his back pocket. He swallows the bile in his throat and slips out of the room. He tries hard not to step in any blood as he makes his way toward the room that Ellen uses as her office.

  
The door creaks when he opens it and room is dark, but otherwise it seems peaceful. He slips inside and goes to the large safe at the back end of the room. It has a keypad lock, but Dean practically grew up here and he knows the key like his own phone number.

  
His hands are sweating as he presses the numbers one at a time, the five sticks and he has to press it extra hard to get it to go. The soft beeps that sound every time he pushes a button grate on him, they sound shrill and loud in the empty room.

  
Dean wipes his hand over his mouth and presses the last number. The safe plays three notes in sequence and comes open with a muted pop. Dean opens the door and breathes a sigh of relief. The guns are still there.

  
There they are, most of them are leaned against the back, but some of them are in cases. Boxes full of ammunition are stacked against the sides. There's a canvas bag at the bottom of the safe, and Dean puts most of the ammo into it along with the smaller guns: two pistols and a revolver. He grabs the two shotguns that are there two, one of them is older than he is, but it still works as far as he knows.

  
He lifts the canvas bag onto his back and carries everything out of the apartment, down the creaking steps, and out of the bar. The Impala is still where he left it, and he can see everyone inside right where they're supposed to be. He rubs his eyes and opens the back door to dump his haul in. Gabriel starts.

  
"Shit! I didn't see you come up."

  
Dean frowns. "You know if I were a flesh eater you'd be dead right now, right?" He slides into the driver's seat.

  
"Yeah, yeah. Spare me the lecture." He blinks finally realizing that Dean has come back alone. "What, uh, what happened?"

  
Dean can feel Sam watching him, waiting. He swallows, shakes his head.

  
"So, what? They weren't there?" Gabriel asks, confused.

  
Dean turns to Sam, who's eyes are huge. He can see the the fear in his brother's eyes.

  
"They were there." He says, keeping his eyes on Sam. "Just not..."

  
Sam blinks twice. His mouth scrunches into a hard line. "Alive?" He whispers.

  
Dean closes his eyes. He can hear Sam start to breathe in ragged breathes beside him. He reaches out to where he knows his brother is to put a hand on his shoulder.

  
"Shit." He hears Gabriel say. "So, no help?"

  
Dean shakes his head, remembering that dead family friends are somehow the least of their problems.

  
"I, uh, I found this though." He digs the papers out of his back pocket and hands them back to Gabriel, who has a sleeping Castiel curled up against him. Gabriel examines them for a minute.

  
"This is good, right?" He looks up, hopeful. "Safe zones? That sounds good! Right?"

  
Dean nods. "Sounds like the place to be."

  
"And this one's circled. Omaha, that's not _that_ far." Gabriel smiles, like everything's already okay. "That's where we're headed, right?"

  
Dean blows a breath through his teeth. "Sounds like our best option. What do you think, Sam?" He turns to face his brother, who has been quiet for a while now. He's just sitting there looking at his hands. He shakes his head.

  
"I don't care." He whispers. "I just want to get away from here."

  
Which Dean really really gets.

  
"What about him?" He nods to Castiel. "I want to make sure everybody's okay with this."

  
Gabriel shakes his cousin's shoulder, gently. "Cas? Cas, wake up."

  
Castiel blinks rapidly at the light. "Hmm?" He says lazily.

  
"We're going to Omaha, buddy. That okay?"

  
Castiel just nods and then turns his face back into Gabriel's side.

  
"He's fine with it." Gabriel translates.

 

 

  
It's easier said than done. For a lot of reasons, really. For one, the roads are shit. Crowded with crashed cars and the living dead. Secondly, they need gas. Pretty badly.  
They find one deserted gas station nearby, but the pumps are all dead.

  
"We could take a different car." Gabriel suggests, gesturing to the abundance of abandoned vehicles around.

  
Dean scowls. "I'm _not_ leaving the Impala."

  
Gabriel holds up his hands in surrender. "Yeesh, sorry."

 

 

 

Eventually, they end up searching the abandoned cars for gas cans. They find a couple, but one is empty. Thankfully, Dean knows how to siphon gas and the empty is soon full, as well as their tank. It's about the time that they get moving again that Castiel starts to come out of his medicine induced haze. No one notices at first, he's a quiet guy and Gabriel is chatting happily with Sam, but then Dean happens to glance in the review mirror. Castiel is curled up into a ball with his eyes shut tight and his hands in fists next to his head. He's biting his bottom lip so hard that it's bleeding.

  
"Castiel!" Dean exclaims. "Are you alright?"

  
Gabriel spins toward his cousin in time to see him shaking his head tightly. Dean hears Gabriel swear, then he hears the rattle of the pill bottle.

  
"Here, swallow this." Dean hears Gabriel say softly.

  
When Dean looks back again, minutes later, Castiel has his head in Gabriel's lap, and his cousin is petting his hair softly.

  
"Is that safe?" Dean wonders. "Keeping him doped up like that?"

  
Gabriel's eyes, when they meet Dean's in the mirror, are uncertain. He looks more like a child than Dean has ever seen him. "I don't know." He says. "I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to deal with this."

  
Which Dean gets, Gabriel doesn't seem like the type to suffer from anxiety or panic attacks himself.

  
He says nothing.

 

 

 

After Gabriel falls asleep Castiel crawls into the front seat, humming tunelessly, and sits himself down between Sam and Dean.

  
"I like it up here!" He announces. "Better view. Why are your shoes so big?" He asks Sam.

  
"Oh, um, they're my dad's." Sam answers quietly. "They were the only shoes by the door."

  
Castiel nods loosely. "Is there any music?" He wonders, reaching out to fiddle with the radio.

  
Dean fights the urge to slap his hands away, kid can't help it that he's high as balls. He reaches over and _gently_ moves Castiel's hands away. "There's nothing on the radio, I've already checked. We've got some tapes though." He nods toward the tape box at Sam's feet.

  
Castiel snorts. "Tapes. What are you, fifty?"

  
Okay, so he's beginning to rethink _not_ hitting Castiel.

 

 

 

The interstate is, surprisingly, much easier to drive on. It's much wider, and most of the cars are swirved off into the grass. Clumps of zombies roam the road, but they're easy enough to drive around.

  
The road is dark, and the silence in the car is punctuated only by the snores of the other passengers. Gabriel is stretched out in the back seat, most likely drooling all over the leather seats, Dean thinks grumpily.

  
Sam is leaned against the window, and Castiel is leaned backward, head lolling loosely.

  
Dean blinks back the sleep that threatens to stick his eyelids closed and drums his fingers on the steering wheel idly.

  
He likes driving; likes the open road and the wind and the sights, likes going fast. Even now, at what may be the end of the world, driving like this calms him. It puts his head back into a familier space and he feels like he can breathe again. That is, until Castiel wakes up again.

  
The boy makes a strange sound in his throat, and when Dean looks over his eyes are clear and frightened again, not dulled my medicine.

  
"Hey, buddy." Dean greets him.

  
"Hi." Castiel whispers.

  
"How are you doing?"

  
Castiel shakes his head and starts rubbing his temples with his fingertips. "I don't- I don't know."

  
Dean nods understandingly. "Me neither."

  
"Where are we going?" Castiel wonders.

  
"Omaha, remember? We decided earlier."

  
"I don't... really remember." Castiel admits.

  
"That's okay, man. You were pretty out of it." Dean tells him

  
They're both silent for a while after that, and it it's surprisingly comfortable.

  
They pass forests and hills and wide open fields. In one, a group of five zombies is tearing into a cow. It's thrashing and mooing and trying to get away, but it has no chance. They drag it down.

  
The next time Dean looks over at Castiel, he notices that the boy's hands are shaking.

  
Dean slows the car to a stop and puts it in park. "Hey." He says, turning to Castiel. "You alright?"

  
Castiel shakes his head, hands fluttering near his ears. "I don't know what to do." He whispers pitifully. "There's nothing I can do."

  
"About what?" Dean asks.

  
"All the death. All the blood. The screaming. And- an-..." he clasps his hand tightly over his mouth and suddenly his eyes are streaming. Tears cascade down his cheeks.

  
"Hey, whoa." Dean says. He reaches out to touch Castiel's shoulder, but the boy jerks away in a panic.

  
"Hey, hey." Dean soothes. "I'm not gonna hurt you, okay. C'mon, you know who I am, right?"

  
Castiel's eyes settle, he nods, hand slipping away from his mouth to grasp Dean's jacket at the elbow.

  
"I let them die." He whispers urgently. "They were dieing and I ran. I hid. I let them-" he cuts himself off with a heavy sob. "I let them _die_. Dean I _let them die_!"

  
Shit.

  
That's ... really heavy. Dean tries to think of an appropriate response. "You wouldn't have been able to do anything." He reasons. "You didn't have guns or anything, right?"

  
Castiel's grip tightens. "You don't know what happened! You don't -" he shakes his head. "I don't deserve to live."

  
"Hold on, man! Just slow your roll a little, alright?" He puts his free hand on Castiel's shoulder. "You wanna... you wanna tell me what happened at your house?"

  
Castiel purses his pale lips. His hands are still shaking. He's quiet for so long that Dean thinks he's done talking. But then,

  
"Early this morning... I was asleep. And I heard- I heard the door. And mom got it; I heard her talking, and then yelling. Then there was screaming and I heard-" he swallows. "I heard a gun go off. I went to see what was going on but Anna got downstairs before I did and they got her too, and she tried to run but they..."

  
Dean nods, he knows what happened to Anna.

  
"While she was running," Castiel continues. "I ran too. Upstairs to the secret room. And I heard them tearing everything apart but I... I just hid. And I could've... I could've done _something_. I should have protected them. I should have."

  
"Who did it?" Dean asks gently. "Did you know them?"

  
"No. No. No no no."

  
And fuck, the kid is hyperventilating again.

  
Dean could wake Gabriel, he could scrounge around the back seat to find Castiel's meds, he could do... something. But he doesn't. What he does is wrap his arms around Castiel and pull him tight against himself. Castiel is stiff for several long moments before wrapping his arms around Dean's back and beginning to sob afresh into the shoulder of his jacket.

  
And, okay, so this isn't typical Dean Winchester behavior, hugging someone he barely knows, but _fuck_ they've all been through a lot in a really short amount of time and this kid needs a goddamn hug. Dean's mom was always a firm believer that enough hugs could fix just about anything, maybe some of that rubbed off on him and he just never realized it before.

 

And, hell, maybe Dean needs a hug too.

 

He can comfort and take comfort at the same time, can't he? Even if it's in someone he hardly knows. The arms around him are anchoring and he finds himself breathing a little easier than he has all day. He rests his chin on the top of Castiel's head and they stay like that for a long time until Castiel calms again.

  
"I know what happened was... horrible." Dean whispers. "But you couldn't have done anything. And it's over. You can't change what happened."

  
There are a few beats of silence, then, "I'm useless." He hears. "I can't protect anyone. I can't even protect myself."

  
"You're not useless." Dean says out of reflex.

  
"How do you know?" Castiel bites. "You don't even know me!" And it's strange, because Dean has only seen the boy display fear up 'till now. He's a little... well, happy that Castiel is angry instead of afraid.

  
"Because." He says. "No one is useless. And I'll... I'll help you find something to do, okay? And I'll teach you to shoot, how 'bout that?"

  
Castiel sniffles against him. "Okay." He says finally.

 

"You know what always makes me feel better?" Dean wonders.

 

Castiel looks up at him. "What?"

 

Dean leans over him to the tape box on the floorboard, after a bit of rummaging he pulls out a tape and hands it to Castiel, who snorts.

"Toto? Really?"

 

Dean hold up a finger. "You say anything about this and I'll push you out of the car."

 

He pops it in and leans back in the seat. Castiel curls up next to him, head resting on his arm.

  
They sit like that for a while before they part and Dean starts driving again. Castiel's head lolls against Dean shoulder.

  
"Don't tell Gabe." He whispers, then falls asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of a short chapter, sorry about that. I've been having kind of a hard time lately, but today is a good day so I got the chapter finished!
> 
> Let me know if you guys spot any mistakes! I THINK I got them all, but probably not.

One Week Ago

  
_There's no news about the Metrose Virus tonight, there hasn't been for days. It's odd because a couple people that Dean knows personally - in that vague way that one knows people such as their parents' co-workers - have very recently succumbed to the virus and are now in the hospital. This obviously isn't over, so why is there no news?_

  
_Dean has also noticed that the Virus Control centers are disappearing steadily from the area, presumably in the night because he never actually sees them in the act of leaving._   
_It's all very odd and suspicious. There is a new air of fear and urgency that lays thick over the town. Mary becomes anxious, and a bit twitchy. She stops letting her boys out of the house as much as possible._

 

 

 

Now

  
The drive isn't difficult. Dean smashes through a few zombies, but not too many because he doesn't want to mess up the Impala. God, that's the _last_ thing he needs right now.

  
They siphon gas from abandoned cars along the road and sing along to the tapes that Dean has in the box under his dash. If he closes his eyes it feels almost like a road trip.

Yeah, a road trip. Just him and Sam and a couple of friends, on the open road. Ready for adventure. Except of course for the part where pretty much everyone they know is dead and it might be the end of the world. That part is distinctly less road trip-ey.

  
But he doesn't think about it. Can't think about it. If he lets himself start he knows he'll never stop. He'll break and there'll be no putting him back together.

  
They barely stop at all, just a couple hours at a time so Dean can get a little sleep because none of the rest of them can drive stick.

  
The others take turns sitting in the front, because while _technically_ all four of them can fit up front, it's not comfortable. So they sit two in front and two in back at any given time, and they alternate places. It also switches things up a bit, which is good because they don't really have much to do, after a while Dean has had each of their sleeping heads resting on his lap.

  
He sees other moving cars a few times, but they never stop. They barrel away as quickly as possible.

  
Castiel has a few more panic attacks, but about half of them are slightly more manageable, and that's progress, right?

  
When they finally reach Omaha, it's night. A full moon rises high and clear above the landscape, casting an eerie light on the world. At first things seems normal, or as  normal as possible. Everything is still, quiet, dead. The streets and sidewalks are oddly bare, even of the dead. There are no zombies, no people, no anything. And then... there's a wall. A tall, thick, solid metal wall. It stretches high into the air, and in both directions as far as the eye can see, smooth sides glinting in the moonlight. Dean's breath picks up, this could be it. The safe zone! It seems likely, there are no dead around.

  
Dean drives along the wall for hours, down the eerily empty streets.

  
The others wake up after a while, Gabriel in the front, Castiel and Sam in the back, and the three of them enthuse about the fence.

  
"This is it!" Sam says excitedly. "It's the safe zone, it has to be!"

  
Castiel leans over the seat to look out the front window, his mouth twists into a frown. "Why are there no guards?" He asks quietly. "There should be guards on the walls."

  
Gabriel shrugs, unconcerned. "They're probably too busy partyin' 'cause they're so happy about not gettin' eaten."

  
"Where's the entrance?" Asks Sam.

  
"Haven't seen one yet." Says Dean.

 

 

 

 

They drive around the high wall for days searching for an entrance. While they keep close to the wall, they see no dead. Not one. Although, near the end of the first day, Sam thinks he sees something moving at the edge of his vision. When he turns to look properly though, there's nothing there.

  
Dean's elation at finding the wall bleeds slowly into a gnawing uncertainty that makes him irritable and snappy.

  
Gabriel grows silent in the back seat, choosing sleep over waiting.

  
Castiel grows jittery and agitated. His hands shake badly and when he tries to speak it comes out stuttered. He barely moves but for when they stop the car every once in a while to eat canned food and what bread is left from the trunk.

  
Sam just watches the landscape roll by, a knot of worry growing in his stomach.

  
On the third day, they find the entrance.

  
It's an enormous set of metal doors, almost as big as the wall itself, and it's shut tight. Dean pulls up beside it and the four of them get out to stand before it. The sun beats on their backs, hot and dry.

  
"Hello?" Shouts Gabriel, but the sound just comes back to him, hollow.

  
They go up to bang on the doors, but they make barely any sound at all. They scream, they jump up and down, they wave and run hit the doors with everything they can think of. Nothing happens. The smooth steel yields nothing, and no sound can be heard from the other side.

  
After a while, Sam collapses against the door in exhaustion, sliding down the cool metal to the dusty ground. Castiel quickly follows him, shaking hands coming up to cover his face. Gabriel continues to pound.

  
"Let us the fuck in!" He screams. "What the fuck!? Fuck!" He leans his head against the door, shoulders heaving.

  
Dean is also leaned against the door. He feels like he might throw up, and then he does. He lurches off the road to heave into the ditch. They're all silent for a long time, and then Castiel's breathing is speeding up until he's gasping for breath and Gabriel is darting to the car to get his medicine. Dean goes to sit next to Castiel and pull him into a hug. Castiel goes easily, wrapping his arms around Dean and burying his face in his neck. He's shaking like a leaf and Dean rubs his back comfortingly.

  
When Gabriel runs back over, pill bottle clutched in his hand, he stops short.

"What's...." he starts, but he doesn't finish. He just stands there, watching his cousin clutch Dean like his life depends on it. After a few minutes, he moves to kneel next to him.  
"You need your pills, Cassy?"

  
Castiel gives a small shake of his head. "Don't call me that." He mumbles into Dean's shoulder.

  
Gabriel raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, okay."

  
"What now?" Asks Sam, defeated.

  
Dean shakes his head slowly, he'd been leaning almost entirely on the idea of a safe zone. Now... now he has no idea.

  
"Maybe we can stay here tonight, just... to make sure."

  
The rest of them nod. They're all worn out, tired, disappointing. The thing that was supposed to safe them stands strong, shut tight.

 

 

 

 

Sleeping in the Impala is a little uncomfortable. They have plenty of blankets, and they lay them out on the seats and the floor. Dean and Gabriel sleep on the front and back floors, respectively, and the younger boys stretch out on the seats. They watch the entrance as long as they can before sleep takes them, but there's not a peep. No glimpse of life.

 

 

 

 

Nothing happens that night, or the next day. They decide to stay for one more night, but there's just more of the same. More eerie silence, more nothing, until Dean feels like he'll go crazy if he has to sit here any longer.

  
He looks around, at what else there is. They're in the middle of the suburbs, small, uniform houses stretching out in neat rows on all sides.

  
"Well, guys." Dean says. "What'ya say we bunker down someplace?"

  
"Why not keep moving?" Gabriel wonders.

  
Dean shrugs. "Where to? More of these "safe zones"? The next closest one is weeks away. And what if they're all like this? I don't think I can..." he rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I don't think I can do this again, Gabe."

  
Gabriel looks at him for a long minute, then nods. He turns to the two younger boys. "What do you guys think?"

  
"It would be nice to have somewhere to stay for a little bit." Sam pipes up. "This is kinda cramped."

  
Castiel nods in agreement.

  
"Okay, good." Dean breathes.

 

 

 

 

They drive slowly past the little white houses, looking at each one in turn. But there's always something wrong. This one doesn't have a yard or that one looks too small.

  
Finally Dean snaps, "What _do_ you guys want?"

  
It's not Gabriel that answers, or Sam. It's Castiel's soft voice that speaks up.

  
"Um," he says. "I think if we're planning on, you know, squatting-"

  
"It's not squatting if the owners are dead." Gabriel interrupts.

  
Castiel scowls. "We don't _know_ that they're dead. _Anyway_. I think that if we're already planning on squatting, we could stand to do it a little... bigger."

  
"Bigger?" Says Dean.

  
"Yeah." Says Castiel. "Maybe we could look at the bigger houses."

  
There's a chorus of agreement from the others, and Dean agrees that it makes sense. He turns the car around.

 

 

 

 

It takes them a while to find the nice part of town, but when they do it's worth it. There are a few wrecked cars here, but not many. The houses, bordering on what Dean would call mansions, are set high above the road. Large garages and wide driveways are common. The boys gaze at the houses, dumbstruck.

  
"They're _huge_." Breathes Sam.

  
"Oh, oh!" Gabriel exclaims. "That one!" He points at a huge white house perched up on a hill, three stories of clean white siding and large windows. The driveway is long and wide, lined with large brown stones.

  
Gabriel and Dean get of the car, guns in hand, leaving Sam and Castiel in the car.

  
The front walk is lined with rosebushes in full bloom, the smell of them is thick and cloying. The front door is unlocked, which is lucky because Dean would hate to have to break it. A large, lion head door knocker sits in the middle of it.

  
They come in to a large foyer, white and clean. It's mostly empty, but for a few fake plants. To the right is a large dining room, with a sturdy mahogany table surrounded by chairs. Off of that is a kitchen, with large windows that look out over the lawn.

  
To the left of the foyer is a living room. It's enormous, with a huge flat screen tv and numerous, soft couches. Everything seems to be in various shades of white, which Dean doesn't really like, but there's nothing to be done about it. In the back of the house is a laundry room and, out in the fenced in big back yard, an in-ground swimming pool.

  
"Sweet!" Says Gabriel. "We can go swimming!"

  
"Don't we need chemicals for that or something?" Dean wonders.

  
Gabriel shrugs. "Fuck if I know."

  
At the front of the foyer is a sweeping staircase that leads upward to the second floor.

  
The second floor has _seven_ bedrooms, big, airy things with king sized beds, and four and a half bathrooms. There are still clothes in the closets, shoes on floors, homework on the desks. A couple rooms obviously belonged to teenagers, and two are very _obviously_ guest rooms. Dean might think people still live here if it weren't for the empty, stale smell and the mold on some of the food in the kitchen.

  
The third floor is just a study, with a big dark desk and numerous shelves full of books. A window looks out over the backyard.

  
There are no zombies, as is creepily usual since they came close to the wall.

  
When the younger boys come in, they're enraptured. Sam finds a pantry stocked with dry goods, and Castiel immediately collapses on one of the big couches in the living room.  
There's no power or running water, but the beds are big, the doors lock tight, and they have a roof over their heads.

  
Dean thinks, as he sleeps into the first safe sleep he's had in a while, that this is a place they could stay.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't a super long chapter but it's got John and Mary's deaths and also the next chapter will have some exiiiitement! Woo!
> 
> (let me know if you spot any mistakes)

Shortly Before Our Story Begins

  
_Sam is watching cartoons when his father bursts through the front door, covered in blood and breathing heavily._

  
_"Dad!" Sam yells, jumping up from the couch._

  
_John holds his hand out in front of him, stopping Sam from coming closer, his other hand presses against his stomach. "'M not... not feelin' too good." He says weakly._

  
_Sam watches, eyes wide and afraid. "What's wrong?"_

  
_"There's... there's monsters." He pants. "Outside. They're... killing people. Where's your brother?"_

  
_"Out back!" Sam says, beginning to panic. "Are you hurt?"_

  
_John moves his hand away from his stomach, it comes away wet with blood. His shirt is ripped and a large patch of flesh beneath it is shredded, dripping red down his pants. "One of the fuckers bit me." He growls, looking at his palm. "Think it might get infected."_

  
_Sam swallows and goes to look out the living room window. In the distance, he can see someone ambling slowly down the road. He frowns at their odd gate._

  
_"Get Dean and your mom." John snaps. "Everyone needs to be in the living room now."_

  
_Sam takes off running, out of the room and down the hall to where the screen door sits propped open to the back yard. "Dean!" Sam calls, skidding to a stop on top of the concrete steps._

  
_Dean freezes where he's raking the leaves in the backyard into a pile, hearing the panic lacing his brother's voice. "What's wrong?" He asks._

  
_"Dad got hurt! He wants everybody in the living room!"_

  
_Dean drops the rake onto the ground and sprints into the house after Sam. They both call for Mary on their way in and she shows up in the living room moments after they do._

 

_That night is difficult. They board up the windows and barricade the doors, but John refuses to tell them exactly what's out there. He gets the shotgun out of the upstairs closet and won't put it down for anything. At one point, Mary wants to turn on the television. John wrenches the remote away from her and throws it against the wall so hard that it breaks into three pieces._

  
_"What is wrong with you?!" Mary demands._

  
_"Just leave it alone!" John growls._

  
_"What if there's news? Evacuations? What if we need to do something specific?" Mary asks angrily._

  
_"I will protect you and the boys!" John roars. "You think the news knows better than I do? They don't! They don't know what's going on, I do! I've been out there! Now, leave it alone!"_

  
_Mary sits back, fear etched into her features. The boys are frozen beside her. Sure, John has a bit of a temper, but he doesn't yell at Mary.  And his anger seems... different. It has more of a desperate edge than usual. They stay silent._

  
_Dean and Sam doze, leaning onto each other, while John paces the room angrily. Dean has just begun to dream, something he won't remember, when he's jerks awake by a blood curdling scream._

  
_Dean jerks up, eyes darting around the room blearily. He doesn't need to look far though, just onto the floor in front of the couch. It's there, in a puddle of thick, dark blood, that is mother is screaming._

  
_His father is leaning over her, and for a moment Dean thinks that he's helping her, calming her... something. But a second glance reveals that he is, in fact, tearing her throat out with his teeth. Mary's scream tapers off into a sick, wet gurgle as John crushes the muscles in her throat between his teeth. Her legs and arms flail wildly and her eyes roll back into her head._

  
_It takes Dean a moment to react. It's his father after all, he can't be hurting Mary. He would never..._

  
_Dean leaps to his feet and spins to see Sam, awake. He's staring at the scene in front of him, face ashen and pinched.  "What?" He starts to say, and then John lifts his head._   
_The whites of his eyes are a dirty brown, shot through with spots of red. His complexion is grey and sick, with patches of yellow and red blooming beneath the skin. The entire bottom half of his face is covered in blood, it drips slowly down his chin and onto the floor, and shredded muscles are stuck, stringy, between his teeth._

  
_He lifts his head, open his mouth, and roars._

  
_Dean is vaguely aware of hearing Sam start to scream, of wrenching his brother up, grabbing the shotgun that lies abandoned on the floor, and pulling Sam through the house. He's at the back door, pushing desperately at the dresser they'd used to barricade the door earlier. Sam is sobbing and searching for shoes._

  
_"I can't find any!" He cries, just before vomiting all over the floor._

  
_"Just use those!" Dean yells, flailing a hand at a pair of John's huge, muddy boots that sit in the hall._

  
_Sam steps into the boots, which come clear up to his knees, just as Dean manages to shove the dresser out of the way and John comes barreling into the hall._

  
_Dean grabs his brother's hand, pulls him out the door, and runs._

 

 

 

Now

  
"So, do we need some sort of... plan?" Sam asks the next day. The four of them are in the living room, sprawled on the couches and the soft carpet.

  
"Wha?" Says Gabriel, hanging off of the sofa.

  
"A _plan_." Sam reiterates, rolling his eyes. "You know, for _food_ and _water_ and stuff."

  
"We have water." Says Gabriel.

  
"We have a _single_ case of bottled water. That's not going to last long."

  
"You're such a bummer." Gabriel sighs.

  
Sam glares.

  
"Sam's right." Dean interjects. "We need _some_ sort of plan. We can't just sit here and hope for the best."

  
"Alright." Says Gabriel. "What should we do?"

  
"I don't _know_." Dean sighs, rubbing his temple with his fingertips. "I don't know anything about... foraging or... whatever."

  
"There are plenty of other houses in the area." Castiel speaks up for the first time, from where he sits looking out the window. "If the other houses are in similarly good conditions we can probably get supplies from them."

  
"Thank you, Cas!" Dean says, extending a hand toward him. "At least _someone_ has some ideas." He looks pointedly at Gabriel, who gives him the finger.

  
"Okay," says Gabriel, "so should we do it... now?"

  
Dean looks past Castiel out the window, the sun is still high in the sky. "I don't see why not." He says. "I still haven't seen any zombies around, weirdly."

  
"Yeah, I wonder what that's about." Gabriel muses.

  
"Hmm." Castiel says thoughtfully.

 

 

 

 

So they go searching. They look through the big empty houses for food, water, supplies. The houses, for the most part, are untouched. It doesn't look like anyone died in these houses, like any fights were put up in these houses. Everything is set up as though the owners are just out for lunch and will be back any minute. But they won't, they're safe behind that thick wall.

  
They haul all the non-perishables they can find back to the main house and go through them in the big, industrial kitchen. They all feel better afterward, confident that they will at least survive for a little while.

  
As it turns out, they needn't have bothered. As the sun is nearing the horizon, the sky turning a violent shade of purple, there's a knock on the door. Everyone freezes, because that should not happen.

  
There _should not be a knock_.

  
No one should knock.

  
_There's no one to knock._

  
They all fall silent, and by some unspoken agreement, Dean gets up.

  
He walks to the door slowly, grips the doorknob, and pulls the door open. The moment the door swings open, he's looking down the barrel of a gun.

  
"Hello there." Says the large man behind the gun. He grins wickedly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went ahead and wrote the next chapter, cuz I was on a role!  
> Let me know if you spot any mistakes.

The arrival of this strange, gun toting man throws the house into upheaval. Especially since he's closely followed by two other men, who also have guns. The first man keeps Dean in the entryway while the other two move into the house, and Dean shuts his eyes tight because he knows that Sam and Castiel at least will be terrified, panicked.

  
Mentally, he kicks himself. Mostly because he _left the goddamn shotgun_ laying in the living room. Because he's an idiot. A massive, fucking idiot. How could he have been so stupid? Also because he answered the door in the first place. Why? He asks himself. Why had he answered the damn door? Not that it would have stopped them coming in, probably, but that doesn't mean that Dean won't beat himself up over it.

  
When the other two men return they are, sure enough, pulling along an increasingly panicked Sam and Castiel, as well as a frightened looking Gabriel.  
One man has Sam's arm gripped in one iron fist, and Castiel in the other. The other man is steering Gabriel firmly by the shoulder.

  
It's when Castiel catches sight of the man currently holding a gun to Dean's temple that things _really_ start to go downhill.

  
His widen in a way that might be comical in some other situation, his knees lock, his already trembling hands begin to shake in earnest, becoming more violent until Dean thinks they might fall off. He's staring at the man, mouth opening and closing silently, and then he speaks. It's so quiet, Dean has to strain to hear. "Nonononononononono." Is all he says, over and over again until he falls to his knees, arm still held painfully above his head, and vomits on the floor.

  
"Christ!" Spits the man holding Castiel's arm, stepping back. "The fuck is wrong with this one?"

  
On the man's other side, Sam's breaths have sped into panicked gasps.

  
"He needs his medicine!" Gabriel says, trying to wrench away from the man who has him. "It's in my bag!" He points. "Please, please, he needs his medicine!"

  
The man who has Dean rolls his eyes as Castiel continues to puke and cry, doubled over on the floor, muttering nonsense into the tile.

  
"We don't have _time_ for this!" He snaps. His voice is incredibly nasaly, it makes Dean's teeth hurt.

  
"I'll get the medicine." Drawls the man who has Gabriel, causing his charge to glance back gratefully.

  
"Are you fucking kidding me, Benny?" Says Dean's guy. "We do not. Have time. For this."

  
The guy who has Gabriel- Benny, apparently, shoots the other man a withering glare. He gives Gabriel a little push toward him.

  
"Just take him, Al, I'll be two seconds." And he turns to go into the living room.

  
The man who's name is Al curses and grabs Gabriel, still keeping his gun trained on Dean. It's not ideal, but at least Benny is getting Castiel's medicine, right?  
He comes back just in time. Castiel is shaking, curled up on the floor. The third, unnamed man has let his arm go, presumably assuming that he's not a threat. Castiel has just stopped vomiting, probably only because he doesn't have anything left in his stomach, the last few heaves have been nothing but clear, foamy fluid.

  
"Which one?" Benny asks, holding up two pill bottles.

  
"The big one!" Gabriel points.

  
Benny kneels beside Castiel and, surprisingly, gently pries the boy's hand away from his face.

  
"Not gonna hurt you, little man." Benny assures him. "Y' gotta take this."

  
Castiel shakes his head but, after a second, he opens his mouth. Benny presses one of the little white pills to Castiel's tongue, and the boy swallows it gratefully. He's still shaking though, still crying, and the man named Al snaps impatiently.

  
"I thought you said the pills would help!"

  
"They take a minute to kick in!" Gabriel snaps back. The look on his face promises murder.

  
"Don't you fuckin' look at me like that you little-"

  
"Al!" Benny interrupts. "Let's just get these kids out."

  
Al glares, but once Benny hoists Castiel into his arms, he follows the man out.

  
On the street in front of the house a dilapidated school bus and a baby blue van sit waiting. Benny turns to the third man.

  
"You can go ahead and search the house, Gordon. Then we'll go ahead and take them," he nods at the boys, "back to camp."

  
Gordon nods and starts back up the hill to the house. Benny ushers Sam and Gabriel into the bus, but when Dean starts to follow, Al grabs his arm. "Ah, ah, ah." He says. " _You_ _'re_ coming with me."

  
And Dean doesn't like. Not one bit. He needs to watch out for the others, protect the others, and he can't do that if he's someplace else. Plus, this Al guy is especially creepy. He keeps squeezing Dean's bicep oddly. He corrals Dean into the passenger seat of the van, which smells like stale air and mold, and they sit in tense silence for about ten minutes.

  
"I should be with the others." He tells Al, who laughs unpleasantly and pats Dean's knee.

  
"They'll be fine, angel-face. Benny is a big fuckin' pussy, he's not going to do anything." Which, strangely, doesn't really make Dean feel any better. Nor does the fact that Al still has his hand on Dean's knee, and now he's rubbing a little.

  
"Uh..." says Dean, trying to scoot away, but he's ignored. He tries the door once, but it doesn't open. Al chuckles.

  
"Doesn't open from the inside." He explains.

  
Dean's hands feel clammy and weak. He's afraid. More afraid than he probably should be, for reasons he doesn't really want to think about. He just knows that he needs to get to the others, to Sam.

  
He's so busy worrying about the others that he doesn't see Gordon come back, arms laden with supplies. He does this several more times before knocking twice on the van and swinging up into the school bus with the others. The van starts up, loudly, and the little caravan jerks forward down the road. The drive and drive, over black topped roads and then gravel. After a while they're driving down a two lane road through the woods.

  
Dean musters enough courage to ask, "Where are you taking us?"

  
"Camp." Al says, moving his hand a little higher up Dean's leg. "Not far from here. I'll have to show you my bunk." He grins lasciviously, and Dean balks. He suddenly has the over whelming urge to throw up.

  
Al licks his thin lips, his eyes rake over Dean in a way that makes him feel incredibly exposed. He has no idea what to do. What's he supposed to do? And, more importantly, are the others receiving the same treatment? God, he hopes not. He'll kill anybody that touches his brother the way this Al guy is touching him.

  
" _Christ_ you're pretty." Al breathes, pulling Dean out of his revere. "Haven't seen a boy as pretty as you in a _long_ time. Even before everything went to shit. Look at those lips." Dean purses his lips tight, trying to make them smaller. "Mmm, you and I are gonna have some _fun_."

  
Dean holds as still as he can as Al's hand travels further up his leg to his thigh. His heart is racing and his vision is blurring. His breath is coming in panicked gasps and his hands are shaking. He closes his eyes tight, trying to keep himself calm, because now is _not_ the time for a panic attack.

  
Before he can go into full-blown panic, before Al's hand can reach its obvious destination, before anything else happens at all, they're pulling up to a fence.

  
It's a tall, chain length fence topped with barbed wire. Past it, Dean can see a hodge podge of buildings, some small and some big, some one story and some three. They aren't laid out in any apparent pattern. Dean also sees people, live people. Walking and talking. He even spots a few children.  A man is guarding the gate. He's dressed plainly enough, but in his hand is a large rifle. He opens a gate in the fence just enough to let himself out, and approaches the van. Al moves his hand off Dean's thigh and rolls down the window.

  
The man gives them a nod. "Hey Al." He greets. And then, "You know the drill."

  
Al nods and opens his door. He grabs Dean's arm to drag the boy out with him. Once they're both out the guard checks them over, it looks like he's looking for any wounds. Once he's satisfied he says, "Alright, you're clear. Wait until I check the bus and then I'll let ya in."

  
He lopes off toward the van and Al pushed Dean back inside the van, groping his ass on the way.

  
Dean is blushing furiously and he still feels like he might throw up, but he's holding it together. Barely. Once they're inside the fence, they stop again. A few seconds later, Benny opens Dean's door. Behind Benny, Dean can see Sam and Gabriel, supporting an exhausted Castiel.

  
"C'mon, kid." He says, not unkindly.

  
"Hey!" Al growls. "This one is _mine_."

  
Benny glares at him as Dean slips quickly out of the van. "Fuck you, Al." He says, and shuts the van door.

  
Dean can hear Al cursing, but after a moment the van pulls away, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

  
"He touch you?" Benny asks seriously.

  
Dean swallows and purses his lip.

  
Benny spits onto the ground. "Fuckin' pervert." He shakes his head. "Alright, follow me." He says.

  
They do, because what else is there? They're surrounded, everyone is presumably an enemy, and now they're weaponless.

  
So they follow Benny, but not before Sam let's go of Castiel to throw his arms around Dean.

  
"Are you okay?" He asks Dean's chest.  
"Yeah, I'm okay." Dean says, petting his brother's hair. " Are _you_ okay?"  
"Yeah, we're fine." Gabriel pats him on the arm. "We were kinda worried about you though, that guy seems like a real creep." He says quietly.

  
As soon as Sam pulls away, Castiel replaces him. He holds Dean tight and buries his face in Dean's shoulder. Dean realizes that Castiel's medicine has kicked in, that he's probably pretty far off, but he hugs back anyway.

  
Benny gives them time, doesn't snap or say anything rude, and when they're done he motions for them to follow him.

  
He leads them toward the middle of the camp, through dusty roads toward a gray, two story, stone building with a fence-less porch. The steps creak when the group walks up them, although the wood looks new.

  
Benny opens the creaky screen door and ushers them in. They're in a waiting area, full of uncomfortable looking chairs and a fan that lazily spreads dust more than anything else. After a moment, Dean realizes that _the fan is spinning_. There's power here. He looks around, hoping to glimpse the source somehow, but sees nothing unusual.  
Benny goes past them to a door on the opposite wall, he knocks twice. Seconds later, it swings open. Benny curls his hand in a "come on" gesture, and so they do.  
Inside the room, is an office. It's large, and cool. Bookshelves line the walls and big windows take up what room they don't, and behind a heavy mahogany desk sits a man.  
He's small, and pale. With thinning brown hair and shrewd eyes. When he speaks it's with what Dean assumes is a British accent.

  
"What do we have here?" He wonders, sitting back in his chair.

  
"Found 'em when we were out salvaging." Benny explains.

  
The man smiles. "Well then, welcome to my camp." He says. Opening his arms. "My name is Crowley."

  
After a few seconds, Dean realizes that the man is waiting for them to reciprocate. "Uh, I'm Dean." He says warily. "This is Sam, Gabriel, and Castiel." He gestures to the others. "Um..." he swallows, takes a deep breath. "No offense, but why are we here?"

  
The man squints at him. "The camp is safe." He says. "And I'm a nothing if not a philanthropist. I'm offering you a chance to stay here."

  
"Wait... what?" Dean is confused.

  
Crowley sighs. "What bit are you having trouble with?"

  
"I just... was kind of under the impression that we were... prisoners or something. Or, like, you were going to eat us." He lets out a nervous chuckle.

  
Crowley frowns. "What gave you that impression."

  
Benny clears his throat, looking sheepish. "Al and Gordon may have been... a little overzealous. And gun happy."

  
Crowley rolls his eyes and curses. "I have to stop sending those idiots out. We're really a fairly civilized lot, I promise. We even have power!" He gestures to the light on the ceiling.

  
Dean, who can't decide if he's relieved or not, cocks an eyebrow. "Yeah, how is that?"

  
Crowley brightens. "Solar power, love! I saw this coming, been converting to solar for years! And it payed off, big time. We're set here."

  
"You... are?"

  
"Oh, yes. We have our own water supply, gardens, couple cows, a few chickens. Everything we need."

  
Dean stands there... flabbergasted. Their trip here was terrifying, he hadn't known what was going on or what would happen, and now suddenly they're being offered a place to stay. It seems... too good.

  
"And we... can stay?" He asks warily.

  
Crowley nods.

  
"But if we want to... we can leave?" Dean asks, making sure.

  
"You're not prisoners. You can leave anytime. I just ask that if you stay, you do your part."

  
Dean crosses his arms over his chest. "And what's that?"

  
"Whatever needs doing. Everybody here has a job. Might be gardening, might be cooking, might be fixing equipment."

  
Dean thinks about it. "We were doing alright where we were." He says. "There weren't even any zombies in the area."

  
Crowley smirks. "That's because _we_ cleared them out. We go in, clear out the dead. Then we go in and clear out the houses."

  
"That's looting!" Sam pipes up.

  
Crowley fixes his eyes on the youngest Winchester. "Do you know where the people who own those fancy houses _are_ , boy? They're safe behind that big wall. Where they _payed_ to be. That's right, the government _charged people_ for the right to get in there. And you know what happened to everybody else, everybody who couldn't pay? They died. Or... they're here. So... personally, I don't think it much matters. They don't have any use for their stuff anyway. The owners of those big fancy houses won't be coming out from behind their wall for a great long while, in any case."

  
Sam wilts, scooting to hide behind his brother.

  
"So," Crowley says. "what do you say, boys?"

  
"Uh... give us a minute?" Dean asks.

  
Crowley nods and bends back over his desk, letting the boys have some relative privacy.

  
They huddle together.

  
"I think we should stay." Gabriel whispers. "They have running water."

  
"But they're creepy." Whispers Sam.

  
"They _are_ stable though." Dean interjects. "They have food and electricity."

  
Castiel gazes vacantly ahead, he doesn't say anything.

  
Sam sighs. "Yeah, okay." He says. "But if they turn out to be weird we're _out of here_."

  
"Agreed." Dean and Gabriel say in unison.

  
The four of them break apart, and turn back to Crowley's desk.

  
"We'll stay." He says hesitantly.

  
"Ah, good! We could use a few more hands."

  
"But... my car. It's still at the house."

  
Crowley waves dismissively. "I'll have someone get it. Now, you can go, I have things to do."

  
They dazedly follow Benny out of the office, and out of the building.

  
"You know you could of told us you that you weren't _kidnapping_ us." Dean tells Benny.

  
The man chuckles and scratches his head. "Sorry 'bout that, brother. Al and Gorden get me kinda pissed, I might not have been thinkin' straight. Wouldn't have been the dumbest thing I've done."

  
He starts off down the gravel, then gestures for them to follow. "C'mon, I'll show you where you'll be staying."


	8. Chapter 8

The rooms that Benny brings them to are inside a long, rectangular stone building. The building is just one long hall with dozens of doorways off of it leading to small rooms. Benny tells them that it's not the only building like this, there are more spread out through camp. This building is referred to as Dorm C. The rooms are small, but they're clean. They've each got a double bed, a desk, a chest of drawers, a mirror, a window, and a closet. Dean and Sam are given rooms side-by-side, and Gabriel and Castiel are directly across the hall from them. Bathrooms are a communal building in the middle of the camp, but there's an emergency sink at each end of the dorm building.

  
"I think we can find you boys some clean clothes." Benny says. "I'll be back." He leaves them standing huddled in what is now Dean's room. They all sit on the bed while they wait for him to get back, tangled together. Castiel rests his head on Gabriel's lap, and Sam is tucked tiredly into Dean's side. After a little while, Benny comes back with a battered cardboard box. He sets it down on the foot of the bed.

  
"These'll probably be a bit big." He says. "'Specially on you two." He gestures to Sam and Castiel. "But it's what we've got right now."

  
"Thank you." Dean sighs, sitting up and pulling the box over. It's full of worn jeans and faded t shirts that will, indeed, be too big. But it's better than nothing and they'll probably have to throw out the clothes they've got on now, stained and torn as they are.

  
"You boys can take a shower any time. The water isn't real hot, but it's pretty clean an' there's even towels in the bathrooms."

  
"Thanks Benny." Dean says. "Where do you live, anyway?"

  
"Building right by the gates." Benny replies, jerking his thumb in the general direction. "'S called " _A Dorm_ ". I'm in room four." He jerks his head toward the door. "C'mon, I'll show you the bathrooms, I'm bettin' you'll want to clean off before you do anything else."

  
They follow him tiredly, Gabriel is practically carrying Castiel. The building in the middle of the camp is split down the middle, one side for ladies and one for men. Inside, there are rows of toilet stalls. In the back are rows of low shower stalls, they stop about chest height. They don't have doors or even curtains but they do have shiny shower heads that spit out real water, so Dean doesn't complain. There are even bottles of generic soap and shampoo sitting on the partitions, Dean notes happy. He can definitely work with this.

 

 

Dean stands under the warm water, letting it sluice over his face, shoulders, back. Slowly, it washes away the dirt and grime and blood from the past week until there's barely any evidence that any of it is real. He looks down at his feet and he can see muck swirling around the drain, along with suds from the soap he's just used that smells vaguely of manufactured coconuts.

  
He just stands there, still, until he begins to feel like a person again. When he looks at his hands, they're clean. No blood, no dirt. His arms are the same, and his legs, and his stomach. Clean. He knows, objectively, that it hasn't really been that long since all of this started, but it feels like ages. It feels like he's been scared, running, dirty, for years. Like he hasn't had a real moment to rest for as long as he can remember. So he stands there, and continues to stand there as the water cools and his skin begins to prune.

  
"Dean?" He hears, from somewhere. It sounds hazy, like someone is trying to talk through a sheet of thick plastic. "Dean!

  
And then there's a hand, heavy on his shoulder, pulling him back into clarity. It's Sam, he notes, surprised. "What's up?" He wonders faintly.

  
Sam just stares at him for a long moment. "You've been standing under cold water for like ten minutes, Dean." He says slowly.

  
Dean looks down at his hands. Sure enough, they're pruned and pale. And they're shaking. "Huh." He says.

  
He lets Sam pull him out of the stall and wrap him in a towel. Sam is clean, and already dry. He's dressing in a t shirt that's at least three sizes too big and pants that are only being held up by a worn belt that practically loops itself on his small waist. Gabriel and Castiel, too, are already dry and dressed. Castiel is sitting on a bench against the wall near the showers, eyes still relaxed and glazed from his medicine.

  
Dean can hear Sam and Gabriel talking to each other, but for some reason he can't really make out what they're saying. Dean goes and sits next to Castiel on the bench, hand holding tight to the towel around his waist. "Hey Cas." He says.

  
"Hello, Dean." Castiel says lazily. "Have you seen the showers? They're very nice. Now I'm clean, see?" He holds out his arm right next to Dean's face for inspection, and the older boy nods.

  
"Very clean." He says.

  
Castiel's medicine-hazed eyes drift over Dean's face, his shoulder, and down to his stomach. "You're clean too." He whispers, and reaches out. Dean knows he should stop Castiel, shouldn't let him do something weird, but everything is... so heavy. He doesn't feel like he has the power to lift his arms. So he just leans his head back against the cold stone behind him and lets Castiel's fingers skim over his arm, his chest, his stomach.

  
"So clean." The boy murmurs. His hand stops just above Dean's belly button, and rests there. Suddenly there's a weight on Dean's shoulder, and it's Castiel's head, damp and mildly coconut-y.

  
Dean doesn't know how long they sit like that, because everything is sort of hazy, but eventually Dean feels someone come close and then he hears his brother's voice.

  
"Okay Dean, I've brought you some clothe- oh. That's kinda weird. Um... hey, Cas? Can you maybe move your hand?"

  
Dean hears Castiel whine, but then the warmth on his stomach disappears.

  
"Okay, thanks." Sam says. "Now you gotta get dressed, Dean. Come on, help me out here."

  
And Dean does, because he can't just leave his brother hanging. He stands shakily, to Castiel's chagrin, and lets his brother help him dress. He'll probably be embarrassed about this later, he thinks idly, but he can't bring himself to care at the moment.

  
He's aware of being pulled, of movement and light and doors, then laying down somewhere soft, his bed, he thinks. He's aware of his brother whispering the words, "Mental breakdown" and of someone brushing his hair back from his face. Then, he slides into sleep.

 

 

Someone is humming close by. A voice in the back of Dean's head supplies a name for the song, it's _Hey Jude_. His mother used to sing that to him at night, he remembers. Used to. Dean shuts his eyes tighter, willing himself to go back to sleep, that shapeless, emotionless void. It doesn't work. Everything keeps coming. Emotions and memories, everything he doesn't want.

  
His mother, pushing him on the swing when he was very small. She would tickle his sides every time he came down, and then push him gently away.

  
His father, building a tree house with him when Dean was ten. His big, strong hands holding the hammer and, later on, helping Dean get splinters out of his palm.

  
Ellen, teaching him how to shoot. No, no, you hold it _this_ way. Her voice, gentle but firm.

  
Jo. They'd learned to ride bikes together, Dean learned faster. They'd taken swimming lessons together, Jo was better. They'd played football in her back yard. She was the sister he didn't have.

  
Bobby and Karen, solid, always there. Family in every way but blood. Bobby gave Dean his first beer, Karen taught him to tie his shoes.

  
Dean can't say at what point he started crying, but now he's choking on tears. They're dripping down the sides of his face, soaking the sheets beneath his head. His nose is running, stopping up, and doesn't care. He doesn't care.

  
Then there's a hand on Dean's shoulder, and he remembers that there's someone here. There's someone witnessing this humiliation. He feels a wave of embarrassment, and turns his head into the pillow.

  
"It's just me." Comes a soft voice.

  
Dean cracks one eye open, and it's Castiel.

  
He's sitting next to Dean on the bed, bathed in the soft light from the window, a book open in his lap. He smiles sadly down at Dean, and squeezes his shoulder, and if someone has to be here Dean is glad it's Castiel. Castiel isn't going to judge him for not having his shit together, for breaking down, for not being able to handle it any longer. His embarrassment lessons slightly, and Dean notes that the other boy's eyes don't look hazy anymore, they look sharp.

  
"You're not doped up." Dean says.

  
Castiel shakes his head. "You've been out for a while."

  
"How long?"

  
"'bout a day and a half." Castiel answers.

  
Dean wipes the back of his hand off on his face, trying to rub away tears. Castiel leans away, but then he's back with a box of tissues.

  
"Thanks." Dean says, and blows his nose.

  
Once he feels decent, he leans his head back onto the pillow and sighs. "Where is everybody?" He wonders.

  
"Gabriel is helping out in the kitchen." Castiel says. "Sam stayed with you for a while, but then he got hungry, so he's eating now."

  
"And they left you to watch me?"

  
Castiel shrugs. "Two crazies are better than one, I guess."

  
Dean says nothing. He just watches as Castiel turns a page in his book. He does it gently, like the page is something fragile. His fingers are long and delicate.

  
"What are you reading?" He wonders.

  
"The One Hundred and One Dalmatians." Castiel says, turning the book so that Dean can see the cover. It's a faded peach-colored hardback, with ink drawings of dogs around the pretty cursive title. It looks old, and Dean can smell the sweet, thick smell of it from where he lays.

  
"Like the Disney movie?" Dean wonders.

  
"Not really." Says Castiel. "Did you know Cruella De Vil was married?"

  
Dean raises his eyebrows and gives his head a shake.

  
Castiel continues. "Yeah, he took her name."

  
"Where'd you find the book?"

  
"Benny brought some over. They've got a library, apparently."

  
"That was cool of him." Dean says.

  
Castiel nods. "He seems alright. He also said he was going to get your car today."

  
At this, Dean sits up, albeit slowly. He finally notices his clothes, jeans that _almost_ fit and a big green tshirt, soft and warn with a small hole in one sleeve. "Maybe I can go with him." He says.

  
"I don't know, he might have already left." Castiel says thoughtfully. "And Sam is pretty worried about you."

  
Dean leans back against the headboard. He knows Castiel is right, but he really doesn't like the thought of anyone else driving the Impala. What if something happens to it? It's really the only thing he has left of his father. He doesn't realize he's shaking until he feels Castiel's hand on his arm.

  
"I'm fine." He lies.

  
Castiel just looks at him with those sharp eyes. "You don't have to always be fine, Dean." He says quietly.

  
Dean takes a deep breath. "Yes, I do." He says. "And I am." And swings his legs off the bed and stands, when he turns back Castiel is looking at him with his lips pursed, vaguely disapproving.

  
"What?" He demands.

  
Castiel just shakes his head. "You should deal with your emotions Dean, not pretend they don't exist."

  
Dean let's out a frustrated huff. "Oh, really?" He snaps. "Is that what you do, because that seems to be working out _so_ well."

  
Dean feels guilty as soon as it comes out of his mouth, even before he sees the hurt flash in Castiel's eyes and the downward tilt of his lips. The boy bends his head back over his book, not looking Dean in the eye, but Dean can see the sadness resting on his shoulders. Dean sighs and goes to sit back down next to Castiel on the bed. "I'm sorry, man. I shouldn't have said that."

  
He hears a small, exhaled breath, and then, "No, it's true. I can't take my own advice." He turns his head to look at Dean. His mouth curves upward into a sad smile, and his eyes are watery. "I'm a mess."

  
"Ah, fuck." Dean says. "I'm such a dick. You were right, okay? I don't deal with shit. I just kinda shove it back until I get all emotionally backed up and have a fuckin' break down, apparently." He swings his arm around the other boy and pulls him into his side. "C'mere. Let's, I dunno, hug it out, c'mon."

  
Castiel let's put one watery laugh, but turns his face into Dean's shoulder. "I'm running out of medicine." He whispers into Dean's shirt. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

  
Dean swallows, and rubs his hand up and down Castiel's back. He doesn't say anything, what can he say? It's a serious problem and he's got no solution. He's supposed to help, to fix things. He's the oldest, he should know what to do, but he doesn't.

  
"How many do you have left?" He wonders.

  
"Half a bottle of the emergency ones, about thirteen of my everyday ones." Says Castiel.

  
"We'll figure it out." He says, hoping it's the truth.

  
Castiel shakes his head. "I've been on them my whole life. I'm not going to be able to just _stop_ taking them. I can barely function as it is."

  
"Maybe Crowley can get you more." Dean offers. "He seems like a... creative type of guy."

  
"Maybe." Says Castiel, but he doesn't sound convinced.

  
About two seconds later, Sam comes through the door. He doesn't bat an eyelash at the fact that his brother is hugging Castiel, but he does launch himself at Dean to pull him into a hug of his own.  They hug for a long time, Sam squeezing tighter than usual.

  
"I'm glad you're awake." Sam says finally. He loosens his grip a little and snuggles into Dean's unoccupied side, setting his head on his brother's shoulder. "You scared me a lot."

  
Dean ruffles his brother's hair. "Sorry, Sammy." He says. "Didn't mean to freak you guys out."

  
Sam nods, but stays plastered to his brother's side.

  
A few minutes later Gabriel trots in. "Oh, I see how it is." He says when he sees both boys stuck to Dean's sides. He crosses his arms over his chest. "No one gives _me_ hugs."

  
Sam and Castiel both hold out their arms to Gabriel, who grins, then takes a running leap and launches himself into the bed at such an angle that he ends up laying on top of all three of them somehow. He stretches out, despite Castiel's cries that, " _You're smashing my book, Gabe!_ "

  
"This is the life." He sighs, even though Castiel is now trying to shove him off.

 

 

A woman named Jody Mills is in charge of job assignments. She's a little on the short side, and has dark, close cropped hair. She finds them that evening in a tangled pile in Dean's bed. They separate and sit up straight when she comes in. She looks at them with an amused smile, then down at her wooden clipboard.

  
"Alright." She says. "It looks like Missouri wants you," she points her pen at Gabriel. "in the kitchen. Now, we pretty much need help everywhere. So, the rest of you have anything you're good at?"

  
"Uh, I helped my Dad's friend work on cars." Dean offers.

  
Jody taps the pen against her chin. "Cars. Okay, I'll put you in the shop with Rufus and we'll see how that works out." She says, scribbling on the paper stuck to the clipboard. "Anybody else?"

  
Sam and Castiel stay silent.

  
"Alright, well we've got the kitchen," she ticks it off on her fingers, "the shop, which is cars and really anything else that needs fixed. We've got general cleaning, everybody kind of picks up after themselves but we sometimes need people to pick up garbage, sweep the kitchen, stuff like that. We've got gardens that need people and animals that need taken care of. Then there's the crew that goes out and clears the... the dead out of towns and then, you know, looks for supplies." She clears her throat, clearly embarrassed about the fact that they're stealing from the dead. "I wouldn't recommend you boys for that, though, you're a little young." She laughs. "We've got people who sort through everything that we get, we've got people to guard the gate..."

  
"I wouldn't mind animals." Sam speaks up.

  
"You know what that entails? Feeding, cleaning them, cleaning up _after_ them?" She warns.

  
Sam nods. "That's okay."

  
Jody writes it down.

  
"I can do gardening." Says Castiel. "I like plants."

  
"Gardening it is!" Says Jody. "And we're real flexible. If you don't like the work you're doing we'll try and find you something else."

  
"Is it... good here?" Dean wonders.

  
"It is." Says Jody. "It's safe. Crowley is... well, he's sometimes an asshole, but he hasn't given us a reason not to trust him."

  
"Okay." Says Dean.

  
Jody smiles. "Breakfast is at nine." She tells them. "And then everybody is expected to show up for their work right after. I can show you boys where you'll be after breakfast tomorrow."

  
It's only then that Dean notices an alarm clock sitting on the little table next to his bed. It has luminous green numbers, and is plugged into a socket in the wall.

  
"You don't have a phone charger, do you?" Dean jokes.

  
"As a matter of fact, we do!" Jody says brightly. She flips through some papers. "We've got a few different kinds, but we've only got a couple of each, so we share them. We've got a sign up sheet for each one, so you charge your phone and then you pass the charger on to the next person on the list."

  
Dean blinks. "Wait... are you serious? You have _phone chargers_?"

  
Jody nods.

  
"Well, fuck. Sign me up for that!"

  
"Alrighty! What kind of charger does your phone take?"

  
Dean pulls out his long dead phone and shows her.

  
"Okay, you'll want this sign up sheet then." She scribbles his name on the correct piece of paper.

  
"Do they still work? For calling and stuff?" Dean wonders.

  
"So far." Jody tells him.

  
"Cool."

  
"It might be a while before the charger gets to you, the list is pretty full."

  
Dean shrugs. "It's fine."

 

 

Sam sleeps with him that night, curled up on the other side of the bed like they used to do when he was little and had a nightmare. He does now, too, wakes up crying in the middle of the night and Dean hugs him until he's calm again. He doesn't mind it, though, Sam is the only family he has left and he'll be damned if he's going to let anything happen to him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, sorry this took so long to do. I had a lot of stuff going on, and on top of that I was having some weird writer's block with this. I wrote this chapter once then scrapped the whole thing and wrote it again :/  
> Anyway, let me know if you spot any mistakes and, once again, sorry for the delay!

 

Dean wakes quickly, as he has since leaving home, coming into consciousness as one exits the water, quickly, and breathing in his surroundings as fast as he can. But everything is fine. Well... not fine, but they're safe. Sam is safe. And that's what really matters right now. Really, it's the only thing Dean can think of that matters at all. 

  
He's in bed, head on an actual pillow, with his brother snoring softly beside him. Light pools over his slender frame and he looks ethereal, unreal. Dean spent much of last night comforting his brother when he woke from nightmares, over and over again, and it's good to see him peaceful now.

  
He lays there for a while, still, letting life seep back into his appendages slowly. When he finally does get up, he dresses quickly in hand-me-down clothes and then shakes his brother's shoulder.

  
"Wake up, Sam."

  
Sam grumbles and swats at him blindly. Dean leans easily out of the way and goes back to poke his brother in the shoulder.

  
"Come on, man, wake up."

  
Slowly, one of Sam's eyes open. He grumbles more, but then he sighs and sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Wha time 's'it?" He mumbles.

  
"Eight-thirty, dude." Dean tells him. "You better get up."

  
There's much more mumbling and grumbling but Sam does finally get up and get dressed, yawning all the while. Together, they walk to the Mess Hall, a long building in the center of camp. Inside, picnic tables are pushed up against each other, end to end, to make long rows. They get food from a row of tables that runs lengthwise across the front of the building. It's just thick oatmeal and large slices of wheat toast, but it's warm and it's good and it wakes them up. They join Gabriel and Castiel, who are already sitting at one of the long tables. Afterward they separate, heading to their respective tasks and Dean finds himself in a large, dusty building with a garage door on the front. It smells like dirt, grease, and sweat, tangy and warm. It's full rusty car frames and broken appliances, buckets of nails and jugs of oil scattered here and there. Inside is a elderly man named Rufus and a small young woman named Ava. Rufus is ornery in a way that reminds Dean painfully of Bobby, and it makes his heart ache awfully. Ava is quiet, she keeps mostly to herself, fiddling with a broken lamp in a corner. Rufus keeps complaining that Dean isn't as good as Benny, who apparently worked in the shop before moving to what he calls "Clearing crew", but it's not really meant in a mean way. Dean gets the sense that Rufus sometimes just likes to complain for the sake of complaining.

Around noon, right before they break for lunch, a shadow falls across Dean where he's working on an old pickup who's engine won't turn over. When he turns to see who it is, he freezes. It's Al, standing right behind him, watching. Dean straightens up and takes two steps back, just as Al reaches toward him, missing his arm by a hair.

  
"Oh, don't be like that." Al says, stepping forward to close the distance between the two of them. "I just came to see how your first day on the job was going, pretty boy." He reaches out and brushes his thumb along Dean's jaw. Dean jerks his head away, but Al keeps talking. "You sure did look nice bent over that hood." He whispers, grinning creepily.

  
"Leave me alone." Dean says firmly, trying to pretend that his hands aren't shaking.

  
"Mmm, I don't think so." Al says, leaning close. "I haven't had a chance to get to know you yet, but it's going to happen. I promise."

  
Dean's hands curl into fists, his blood pumps quickly in his veins. He wants to run, feels like he might pass out if he doesn't do something soon. It's embarrassing, given everything that's happened recently, that words can rattle him so much, but they shake him to his core.

  
"Boy," comes a gruff voice from behind Al, "you better leave now."

  
Al rolls his eyes, but when he turns, Rufus is there, looking stern.

  
"I don't have to do anything you say, old man." He spits.

  
"That's true, that's true." Rufus says easily. "You don't have to. But if you don't leave now I'm liable to crack you upside the head with a wrench, and that's just gonna mess up everybody's day." To make his point, he reaches over to his tool table and picks up a heavy, rusted wrench half the size of his arm. He looks at it, weighs it in his hand. When he looks up again, there's steel in his eyes. "I'm not gonna tell you again." He says.

  
Al looks at him for a long moment, then takes a step back. "This isn't over." He growls, before turning heel and disappearing out the door.

  
Everyone is quiet for a minute, then Rufus says, "Ava, why don't you get Dean a glass of water."

  
Ava hops up from where she's been sitting, watching everything happen with wide eyes, and darts out the door.

  
"Thanks." Dean says, oddly breathy. His pulse is still going at breakneck speed, and it's making him dizzy.

  
"Come sit." Rufus tells him.

  
Dean goes easily, sitting down heavily on the wooden bench Rufus has at the side of the building. It's old and worn, stained with oil and grease and sweat, but it's solid, and Dean is glad of it. Rufus sits down next to him.

  
"You alright, boy?" He asks.

  
Dean nods once, willing the throbbing in his head to calm.

  
"Guy's a fuckin' creep." He growls. "You tell me if he gives you any more trouble."

  
Dean nods again, but he has to lean over and press the sides of his head with his palms to quiet the pounding there. His breathing seems too loud and his vision is blurring. Distantly, he hears Ava come back in.

  
"Um, here's your water." She says, quite nearby.

  
"Boy just needs a minute." Comes Rufus' voice. Then there's a hand on his shoulder. "Take your time, get back to work when you feel better." And then he's gone, and there's a glass of water next to Dean on the bench instead.

  
It takes Dean longer than he'd like to admit to calm the pounding and spinning in his head, but eventually, when it stills, he gets back to work. Soon afterward they break for lunch, and Dean sits with Rufus and Ava outside the shop where they eat chicken sandwiches in the sun and Rufus complains about the state of his tools.

  
The rest of the day is thankfully uneventful, and at 3 o' clock Rufus tells them to go on home. Ava gives Dean a tight-lipped smile and walks off,  leaving him standing alone outside the shop. He still feels raw, a little shaky, but the warmth of the sun calms him and he sets off down the road.

  
He goes first to his room, where he changes his sweat-stained shirt for another one that's mustard yellow and also too big. Then he stretches and goes in search of his brother. He finds him in a stretch of buildings at the very back of the camp, close to the fence. It's a block that spans that whole side of the camp, breaking only for animal pens made of fence and wire. Sam is on the far left side of the building, inside a large pen made of strong metal fence, scooping cow manure into a wheelbarrow with a big coal shovel. He's going slowly, because he's an asthmatic fourteen-year-old and he doesn't have a lot of muscle. There's another man scooping too, tall and lanky with brown hair and a mousey face. He looks a bit older, but he isn't going much faster than Sam.

  
Dean leans on the fence and watches his brother, he can hear a slight wheeze in his breath.

  
"You doing okay, Sammy?" Dean wonders from his spot.

  
Sam looks up and sees him for the first time, his face breaks into a wide smile. He leans the shovel on the wheelbarrow and comes over to the fence.

  
"I fed a cow!" He says excitedly. "Her name is Sadie. And I got to look for chicken eggs and play with the baby pigs! They're so cute! They've got spots! Did you know pigs have spots?"

  
Dean laughs. "No, I didn't know that. Looks like you're the pig expert now, Sam. Hope you can handle the responsibility."

  
Sam rolls his eyes. "You're a dork."

  
"Whatever, nerd." Dean says, reaching out to ruffle Sam's hair. Sam slaps his hand away, but he's smiling again.

  
"This is Garth." He says, gesturing to the mousie man, who stops his scooping to straighten up and wave. "Garth, this is my brother Dean."

  
"Great to meet you, Dean!" Garth says happily. "You brother sure is a hard worker." He claps a filthy hand on Sam's shoulder, but Sam doesn't seem to notice. "Soon as we finish up with this manure you can go, Sam."

  
"Awesome!" Says Sam. "Are you gonna wait for me?" He asks Dean.

  
"Sure, bro." Dean answers. "I'll just hang here."

  
He only has to wait about ten minutes, and then Garth and Sam are cleaning their hands with water from a hose.

  
They run into Castiel on their way back to their rooms, he's covered in dirt and looking calmer than Dean has ever seen him. Sam immediately begins to chatter on and on about his day, before Castiel barely gets a word out, but he just smiles and listens attentively. When they get to the rooms Sam runs off to get clean clothes, leaving Dean and Castiel standing in the hall.

  
"How'd your day go?" Dean asks politely.

  
"Good." Castiel says happily. "Really good. I feel... I feel good today."

  
"That's good, man. I'm glad you're doing okay."

  
Castiel nods, and stares smilingly at Dean. Dean stares back, feeling like maybe he should look away but then failing to do so. He's not sure exactly what's going on, but it's nice, and Castiel looks happy. He has sun on his cheeks and nose like a blush, and his eyes look warm.

  
"I'm going to go take a shower." Sam says, poking his head out of his room.

  
Castiel finally breaks his gaze. "I should too." He says, and disappears into his room.

  
"What was that about?" Sam asks, coming out with a bundle of clothes under his arm.

  
"What was what?" Dean wonders.

  
"The staring." Sam says, like it's obvious.

  
Dean shrugs, and Sam sighs and rolls his eyes. "Whatever." Sam says. "Are you going to take a shower?"

  
"Maybe tomorrow. I was gonna take a nap."

  
"You're gonna stink."

  
Dean shrugs again.

  
"Ugh." Says Sam. "Whatever, you're gross."

  
Castiel comes out of his room then, and the two of them walk off together. Dean goes into his room and immediately collapses onto the bed, falling quickly to sleep. He's woken about twenty minutes later by a knock on his door. He lifts his head enough to slur, "'s open." And then flops back down. He hears the latch click open, then a low chuckle from the doorway.

  
"Sorry to interrupt your nap, brother." Benny says, amused. "But I thought you'd like to know I got back with your car."

  
When Dean lifts his head, excitedly, he's hit in the forehead with his set of keys. "Ow!" He whines.

  
"Sorry." Benny laughs. "Didn't know you were gonna move your head."

  
Dean glowers at him while he picks up his keys, but then he perks up. "Where is she?"

  
"Out behind the shop. She's just fine." Benny tells him.

  
Dean sits up and swings his feet off of the bed. "Thanks man!" He says, getting up and clapping Benny on the arm.

  
"No problem." Says Benny. "I'll see ya later." He turns and leaves.

  
Dean rubs his eyes, feeling strange from where he fell asleep with all his clothes on. He yawns, stretches, and decides to go look for his car.  
The camp isn't exactly quiet, but it isn't what Dean would call bustling either. He passes some people, and he can hear voices and music, but it isn't overwhelming. He's glad of the people, really, after what happened earlier with Al. He doesn't really feel comfortable being out alone, even in the light. Once he spots the Impala though, parked safely behind the shop, he feels instantly at ease. He walks over and pats the hood.

  
"Sorry I left you." He says.

  
He unlocks the door and slips into the passenger seat, into the familier dip of the leather, the smell of home. He lays back in the seat and stares up at the ceiling. He feels better. Baby is safe, not out languishing somewhere. Slowly, his eyes slip closed again.

  
When he wakes again, it's getting dark. The sky is spills of purple and orange near the edge of the world. And Sam is there, opening the driver door and pushing Dean's legs out of the way so he can sit down. Castiel and Gabriel are there too, sliding into the backseat.

  
"We were looking for you." Sam says, getting comfortable.

  
"Sorry." Dean mutters. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

  
"Benny said he brought the Impala back so we figured you'd be here, we didn't have to look for long."

  
"Sit up!" Says Gabriel. When Dean does, he comes scrambling over the seat.

  
"Hey!" Dean yelps. "No climbing on the seats!" But when Castiel follows behind him, Dean says nothing. Gabriel notices, of course.

  
"Well why didn't you yell at _him?_ " He whines.

  
"I like him better." Dean says, swatting at Gabriel, who is pretty much sitting on top of him.

  
Gabriel gasps and holds his hands to his heart, looking offended. "How dare you! It's a good thing we're besties or I might be mad at you."

  
Dean snorts. "Yeah, okay." But when Gabriel sprawls out on top of the three of them, he just pats the man's legs. Castiel scoots into Gabriel's space at Dean's side, pressing himself close, and Dean throws his arm companionably around his shoulder.

 

"My day went fine, by the way." Gabriel says petulantly, and Dean sees Castiel roll his eyes.

 

"How was your day, Gabe?" Dean asks

 

"Pretty good." Gabriel sighs. "There was this girl."

 

"Oh, here we go." Says Dean.

 

Gabriel gets a dreamy look in his eyes. "She's the most beautiful girl i've ever seen."

 

"Uh huh." Says Sam.

 

"No, she is!" Gabriel protests. "And she's smart! And she looks like she could probably kill me." He sighs again. "She looks like she might _want_ to kill me."

 

"No way, you're adorable." Says Castiel, grinning.

 

Gabriel flips him off. "Her name's Kali." He tells them.

 

"Poor Gabe." Says Dean. "Already in love with another girl who hates him."

 

Gabriel frowns. "That was one time!"

 

Dean scoffs. "It happens _all the time_!"

 

Castiel nods. "That's true." he agrees.

 

"Yeah!" Says Sam.

 

"What do you know about it, pipsqueak?" Gabriel reaches up and pinches Sam's side, and gets another elbow to the face.

 

The whole situation is eerily familier, like they're just sitting at home, about to get out and go into the house. Just talking about work and girls and Gabriel getting hit in the face. They stay like that for a long time, until it gets dark and the stars come out. Sam and Castiel talk about the constellations while Gabriel tries to tickle everyone and ends up getting elbowed in the face. It's comfortable, it's warm. It feels like home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you spot any mistakes, I suck at catching them.

Dean is sitting on his bed, reading a worn copy of Cat's Cradle, when there's a small knock at the door.

  
“Come in.” Dean says, and the door creaks open just enough to let Castiel peak through.

  
“I'm not bothering you, am I?” He asks.

  
“Nah, man. Come on in.” Dean tells him. He pats the bit of empty bed next to him because the room is small and there's really nowhere else to sit. Castiel comes over and sits down gingerly. He seems nervous.

  
“What's up?” Dean asks, closing his book.

  
“I don't know if Gabriel told you, but I had an- an episode this morning.”

  
Dean shakes his head, sitting up straighter. No one had told him.

  
“Well,” Castiel continues. “It was pretty bad. So, um, after I calmed down a bit I went to see Crowley. To see if he could get me more medicine, you know?”

  
Dean nods. Castiel is almost out of his medicine, he knows, and it's been weighing on all of them. It's like having a timer over their heads. “Can he do anything?”

  
“Well, um, he suggested I talk to a lady who lives on the other side of camp. He said she might be able to help.” He sighs. “But I don't want to go by myself.” He gives Dean a meaningful look.

  
“Yeah, I'll go with you.” Dean says immediately. “Doesn't Gabriel want to go?”

  
Castiel shrugs. “He's been a little... preoccupied.”

  
“Kali?” Dean guesses.

  
“Kali.” Castiel confirms.

  
Gabriel has been, well, trying to woo Kali for a few days now. He doesn't seem to be making much headway, but that's not stopping him.

  
“When are you going?” Dean asks.

  
“Well, um, I was wanting to go as soon as possible. Now, maybe?”

  
“Dean puts down his book. “Yeah, okay. Just let me get my shoes.”

  
Castiel lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Dean.” He says earnestly.

  
“No problem, man.” Dean assures him.

  
  
The house Dean and Castiel make their way to is on the complete other side of the camp. It's a small building, standing alone near the fence. Castiel and Dean make their way up the front steps but the door swings open before they can even raise a hand to knock. On the other side of the door is a tall, dark haired woman.

  
“Castiel.” She says, extending her hand. “I'm Pamela Barnes. I've been expecting you.”

  
“But... I only just talked to Crowley.” Castiel says confusedly.

  
Pamela shrugs. “Nevertheless. You're expected. And Dean,” She says, turning her eyes on Dean. They're odd, milky and unfocused. They seem almost sightless, but at the same time, they don't. “It's very nice to meet you.”

  
“How did you know...?” Dean starts, but Pamela just grins at him, and he feels like he's missing something important.

  
Pamela steps back and opens the door wider. “Come in.” She tells them.

  
Stepping into Pamela's house is like stepping into another world. It's hazy with sweet smelling smoke, there are ornate rugs everywhere, crystals sit on every available surface.  
“Let me just open a window.” Pamela says absently. “I know it gets smoky in here.”

  
“So, um, do you know why I'm here, then?” Castiel wonders.

  
“I do.” Pamela says, opening a window over a quilt-covered couch. “Sit, sit.”

  
Castiel and Dean sit down side by side on the couch. “So, what is it that Crowley thinks you can do for me?” Castiel asks. “Are you... a psychologist or something?”

  
Pamela laughs. “Not quite.” She says cryptically.

  
Dean can feel that Castiel is tense beside him, worried.

  
When she comes back over, Pamela sits down on the edge of the coffee table in front of the couch, across from Castiel, so close that their knees touch. When she reaches her hands out toward Castiel's head the boy shies back.

  
“What are you doing?” He demands.

  
“I'm just going to take a look at what's inside, dear, don't have a fit.” She says.

  
She reaches out again and Castiel, again, leans away. “Explain to me what you're doing.” His voice shakes a little, and Dean finds himself moving a little closer to him.

  
Pamela sighs. “I'm psychic, alright?” She tells them. “Now, I already know that you dont believe in all that so we're just going to skip that whole argument and jump ahead to where I tell you that I might be the only person who can help you sort yourself out now. Do you want help or not?”

  
Beside Dean, Castiel is frozen. “Psychic...” Castiel says sceptically.

  
“Yes. Now answer the yes or no question, sweet-cheeks.”

  
“But I don't believe-” Castiel starts.

  
“Yes.” Pamela interrupts. “I know, remember? Come on now, we haven't got all day. Do you want help?”

  
Dean hears Castiel swallow. “Yes.” He says after a moment. “If there's anything you can do... I, I do need help.”

  
Pamela nods. “Good. Now close your eyes.” Castiel closes his eyes as Pamela's fingertips touch his temples, and they both go still.

  
Dean watches, confused, and a little worried, unable to help. He sees that Castiel's hands are shaking and he slides his hand over the boy's, twining their fingers together, and he waits.

  
  
The two of them are completely still for about fifteen minutes, not moving a muscle. Dean rubs the back of Castiel's hand absently with his thumb, trying to sooth but not really knowing how.  When they snap out it, Dean feels it. It's like a pressure has been lifted, all of a sudden, one that he didn't even realize he felt. Then, Pamela blinks and Castiel's eyes slide open slowly. Dean squeezes Castiel's hand a little tighter.

  
“Hmm.” Pamela says. “We have quite a bit of work to do. It's all very mixed up in there.” She taps a long nail to the side of Castiel's head. She stands quickly and strides across the room and through a doorway.

  
When she's gone, Castiel turns his head to look at Dean. He looks... tired.

  
“You okay?” Dean asks.

  
Castiel nods, but he doesn't say anything. He looks down then, noticing that his hands are covered with Dean's, that their fingers are threaded together. When he looks back up at Dean, there's something in his eyes that Dean can't quite make out.

  
Before he can think too much about it, Pamela is back, holding three mugs perched on a tray.

  
“There you go.” She says, handing them each a mug. “Drink up.”

  
Steam curls from the dark liquid in Dean's cup and he slowly, carefully, extracts his hand from Castiel's so that he can hold the mug with two hands.

  
The liquid is tea, Dean finds quickly, mellow and sweet with honey. It calms the anxiousness inside of him.

  
“Do you meditate, dear?” Pamela asks.

  
Castiel shakes his head. “No, I- i've never tried it.”

  
“Hmm, alright.” She says. She taps a long nail against her chin for a while, a faraway look in her cloudy eyes. Then, she's back. “Drink your tea.” She says flapping an arm at them. “Then you can go. And you,” She points at Castiel. “Come back tomorrow after your work. Wear something comfortable.” Very suddenly she turns, and walks out of the room.

  
Dean and Castiel drain their glasses, but Pamela doesn't return. They debate going to find her, but in the end they just let themselves out, shutting the door firmly behind them.

  
“Well, that was fuckin' weird.” Dean says, once he thinks they're out of earshot.

  
Next to him, Castiel nods. The back of his swinging hand brushes Dean's fingertips. “It certainly was odd.”

  
“Do you think she can help?”

  
Castiel lets out a long breath. “Yes.” He says, but he doesn't elaborate.

  
When they get back to Dean's room, Castiel follows him in and promptly falls asleep on the empty side of the bed.  
  
-o-  
  
Dean is in the shop, trying to fix an old dryer, when a girl comes running in. He doesnt pay her any attention until she says, “Um, Dean Winchester?”

  
Dean looks up. He recognizes the girl now, she works in the gardens too, with Castiel. Her name is... Holly? Or maybe Hannah? Something like that.

  
“Yeah?” He says.

  
“I need you to-” She makes a _follow me_ gesture.

  
Dean looks over at Rufus, who grunts, “Don't be long, boy.”

  
Dean follows the girl out the door and through the camp. “What's going on?” He asks.

  
“Castiel is... freaking out or something. I don't know. But I'm supposed to get you. That's all I know.” She says, a little tersely.

  
When they finally reach the garden, there are two girls, one blond and one brunette, pulling weeds, but Dean doesn't see Castiel. The girl leads him around to the storage shed, the doors of which are swung open. Inside, Dean finally sees Castiel. He's sitting on the floor with his arms around his legs, he's shaking. There's a man sitting next to him, patting him ineffectually on the arm. When he sees Dean, the man stands.

  
“Oh, good.” He sighs. “You're here. Andy Gallagher.” He waves at himself. “We don't know what to do.” He waves at Castiel.

  
“I got it.” Dean tells him. “You can go.”

  
Andy nods gratefully and ducks out with the girl on his heels. Dean goes to kneel next to Castiel.

  
“Hey, buddy.” He says, bringing his hand up to rub Castiel's shoulder gently. “What's wrong?”

  
Castiel shakes his head, but then he lurches forward to throw his arms around Dean, who pulls him close.

  
“I got you.” Dean mumbles into his hair.

  
“I don't even know what's wrong.” Castiel whispers to him, voice cracking with emotion. “What's wrong with me?”

  
“There's nothin' wrong with you.” Dean tells him, rubbing up and down his back.

  
Castiel lets out a hollow, mirthless laugh. “Yeah, right.”

  
“I'm serious.” Dean says. “A lot of people have anxiety problems. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you.”

  
Castiel doesn't says anything, but he clutches Dean tighter. They sit like that until Castiel calms, heart rate slowing, he rests his head on Dean's shoulder.

  
“I'd better get back to work.” Castiel says after a while. “The Rubys will be mad if I stay in here too long.”

  
“Rubys?” Dean asks.

  
“Those girls.” Castiel points at the blond and the brunette out in the garden, currently throwing dirty looks toward the shed. “They're both named Ruby. They're... not very nice.”  
“You want me to beat 'em up?” Dean asks, only half kidding.

  
Castiel smiles. “I appreciate the offer, but no.”

  
On impulse, Dean reaches out and rubs his thumb along Castiel's jaw. The boy leans into his touch.

  
“Are you going to be okay?” Dean asks.

  
Castiel nods. “I'm going to see Pamela later.”

  
“Man, I hope she can help.”

  
“I think she can.” Castiel tells him.

  
  
Dean doesn't see Castiel again until it's dark. The boy opens his door and slides in without knocking.

  
“Hello Dean.” He says.

  
“Hey Cas, how'd it go?”

  
Castiel comes to sit on the bed next to him. “Weird. Pamela is teaching me to meditate. It's... surprisingly difficult. And she looked into my head again. I feel,” he rubs his fingertips together. “raw. I don't think I like it.”

  
Dean leans over and puts his arm around Castiel's shoulder. “Give it some time. You can always stop if it doesn't help.”

  
“I don't dislike it.” Castiel tries to explain. “I just, it leaves me feeling more... vulnerable than usual.” He tilts his head up to look at Dean. “It's like I'm feeling things even _more,_ and that's sort of how I got into this mess in the first place.”

  
Dean's rubs his thumb over Castiel's upper arm absently and he feels the boy move closer and burrow into his side.

  
“How are _you_ doing?” Castiel asks.

  
“Alright.”

  
“Are you really? Or are you just saying that?”

  
Dean smiles down at Castiel. “I'm doing alright. Working in the shop is nice. Having food is nice. Not being scared all the time is nice...”

  
“But?” Castiel prompts.

  
“I don't know. I just can't seem to find the footing I need, you know?”

  
“Give it time.” Castiel says, echoing Dean's words from earlier.

  
Dean leans his head back. “I wish my parents were here.” He whispers. “Everything would be okay if they were just...”

  
“I know.” Castiel says, and Dean remembers that he lost a mother and a sister. He grips Castiel tighter.

  
“At least we've all got each other, right?” Dean tries, but it feels a little hollow even to him.

  
Castiel nods. “I be dead if it weren't for you.”

  
“You don't know that. You're a resourceful guy, maybe you'd have been fine.”

  
Castiel gives him a skeptical look. “Dean, I'm an absolute mess and we both know it. I would not have been fine.”

  
Dean cards his fingers through Castiel's hair and the boy hums against him.

  
“Feels nice.” He mumbles, before falling asleep on Dean's shoulder.

  
Sam shows up about fifteen minutes later, freshly cleaned and smelling like coconut soap. He lays across Dean's feet at the end of the bed, reading a book.

  
“Have you seen Gabriel?” Dean asks him.

  
“He's with Kali.” Sam tells him.

  
Dean frowns. “You'd think he'd stop chasing girls for two seconds at the end of the damn world, wouldn't you? Especially when he has people who need him.” He means Castiel. He's a little frustrated that Gabriel has seemingly just forgotten about him emotionally fragile cousin. Dean doesn't mind looking out for Castiel, he really doesn't. He likes it, in fact. He's even begun to think that he might be getting a little too much satisfaction from playing hero so much in this situation. But he also thinks that Gabriel should be here too, looking out for Castiel. He shouldn't just abandon the guy.

  
“It's just his way.” Comes a small voice from Dean's shoulder, and Dean starts a little, not realizing that Castiel had woken up.

  
“Still, he should be here.” Dean says, a little petulantly.

  
“He's overwhelmed.” Castiel explains. “And when he's overwhelmed he loses himself in whatever is available, it's just what he does. He handles things about as well as I do, just differently. I'm just glad it's only girls and not something else.”

  
Dean squints curiously. “What, as opposed to, like, drugs or something?”

  
Castiel shrugs and turns his face back into Dean's shoulder. “'s not my place to say.” He says, yawning. “Now shh, I'm trying to nap.”

  
“You know you have your own bedroom, right? With your own bed?” Dean teases.

  
Castiel just glares at him, squinty eyed, and snuggles back into his side.  
  
-o-  
  
Dean is helping Benny fix the roof on the mess hall, despite the fact that he has no experience roofing whatsoever. It's hot, the roof is scratchy, and Dean hates it. Being up high is kind of cool though, he can see all of the camp from his perch. He can see all the people milling about and some of them look like ants scurrying about their business. A few hours in Dean peels off his sweat-soaked shirt and leaves it on the edge.

  
After a while the heat of the sun, the feeling of it, big and warm beating down on his back, has the ability to make Dean forget everything. He doesn't think at all, he just lets Benny instruct him, focusing on the warmth of the shingles beneath his palms. When they break for lunch the world comes back to Dean in a rush and he feels odd, unbalanced. He climbs unsteadily down the ladder and follows Benny dazedly into the mess hall. They wash their hands in the kitchen and wipe the sweat from their bodies with scratchy brown paper towels.

  
When Dean makes his way out into the hall with his food, he spies Sam, Castiel, and Gabriel sitting with a pretty, brown haired girl. He takes the empty seat between his brother and Castiel, across from Gabriel and the girl, and sets his food down heavily.

  
“Hey guys.” He says before immediately stuffing his face with a roll, still warm from the oven.

  
There's a small chorus of “hi”s and when Dean comes up for a breath he finds Castiel staring at him.

  
“Wha's up?” He asks through a mouthful.

  
Castiel jumps a little, as though he didn't expect to be caught. “Oh, ah, nothing.” He says, shaking his head.

  
Dean raises an eyebrow and waits.

  
“You just...” Castiel begins after a moment, his face steadily turning a vibrant red. “You have... freckles on your shoulders.” He says quietly.

  
Dean looks down, and, sure enough, he's not wearing his fucking shirt. He mentally curses himself, it's still up there on the roof. Now that he remembers, he's self conscious, and he can feel his cheeks heating up. He swallows.

  
“You've seen me without a shirt on, Dude.” He reminds Castiel, trying to seem like it's no big deal.

  
Castiel's head cocks confusedly to the side. “Have I?”

  
“Yeah man.” He remembers when they first showed up here. They'd all been in the bathroom. In fact, Dean is pretty sure they all saw him naked. But, then... “Well, you were pretty doped up at that point.”

  
“Oh.” Says Castiel, and he looks a little... disappointed?

  
“That's right,” Gabriel pipes up. “we all saw Dean's goods. Now, if we could steer the conversation away from my friend's body for a minute – _thank_ you very much – I'd like you all to meet Kali.” He gestures dramatically to the girl next to him. She gives them a small smile, it's a little brittle.

  
“Kali, this is everybody.” Next to Dean, Castiel huffs, clearly not pleased with his introduction.

  
Dean, though, is thankful for the change of subject, and takes this chance to attack his food with renewed zeal as Gabriel begins to chatter on about all of Kali's wonderful attributes. Oddly enough, Kali seems to almost like Gabriel, which is a surprise to them all.

  
As they leave the hall later, Dean can feel eyes on him. When he turns to see, Al is there, watching him. He grins lecherously when Dean catches his eye, pursing his lips in a kissing motion.

  
Dean turns quickly away and leaves the building, shaking himself, trying to get the tinge of fear off of his skin.  
  
-o-  
  
The next day, all of the cellphones lose all signal. Dean doesn't even bother getting the charger from Jody, he just chucks his phone into the trash, it's useless junk now.  
Sam keeps his, more out of a sense of nostalgia than any hope that it will actually ever work again. It feels to Dean like cutting his last ties to how things used to be. It's not, of course. At night he still sees all of it, all of them, in vivid color. His parents, relatives, friends. Bobby and Karen are still fine in his dreams, just lost. His parents though... when Dean dreams of his parents they're blood soaked monsters with gaping maws that come after him in the dark, always following a step behind no matter how fast he runs. He routinely wakes in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, heart racing, face wet. Sometimes Sam is there, having snuck into Dean's room after nightmares of his own. Sometimes he's alone, and he lets himself muffle his sobs into his pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://frecklesandmisterblueeyes.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
